


Candidate

by cloudcjty



Series: Candidate [1]
Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: Affairs, Air Force One, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - College/University, American Politics, Assassination attempts, But there are a few mentions about having a lack of appetite near the end of the fic, Calista's in this she's mentioned as Harrison's wife by name maybe once though, Columbia University, Court, Divorce, F/M, If you only read one work by me, Is that a spoiler idk, Lawyers, No one in this has an eating disorder, Political Campaigns, Presidency, So if that is triggering then skip to after christmas dinner, Teacher-Student Relationship, The age gap is the same as ANH, There is a very short scene mentioning food restriction, Unplanned Pregnancy, also i tried to make the location seem realistic, but are they gonna get it, child character, forgive me for the formatting, heavily influenced by Air Force One (1997), hence the graphic violence tag, i might write a sequel but also this took me way too long so, no, no one dies dont worry, parenting, so she ain't tagged, they need couples therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 126,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudcjty/pseuds/cloudcjty
Summary: In the fall of 2006, Carrie Fisher begins her first semester at Columbia University. With the need to succeed and to prove herself, she takes up the offer to assist her economics professor, Harrison Ford, in preparing his 2008 presidential campaign.
Relationships: Carrie Fisher/Harrison Ford, side Jennifer Grey/Patrick Swayze
Series: Candidate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096046
Comments: 46
Kudos: 31





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Mabe and Maria and Phoebe, if you know you know. 
> 
> If you want to listen to the songs that inspired this, here is a playlist from Apple Music. I'll make a Spotify one eventually.
> 
> https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/%F0%9D%92%84%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%8F%F0%9D%92%85%F0%9D%92%8A%F0%9D%92%85%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%95%F0%9D%92%86-%F0%9D%92%91%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%93%F0%9D%92%95-%F0%9D%92%90%F0%9D%92%8F%F0%9D%92%86/pl.u-oZylKAWtprV7x0

**_I guess it was going just a little too well_ **

**_If I wasn’t careful I’d be happy pretty soon_ **

**_Heaven’s no place for one who thrives on hell,_ **

**_One who prefers the bit to the silver spoon._ **

**_Then just when I’d almost resigned myself to winning_ **

**_When it seemed my bright future would never dim_ **

**_When my luck looked as though it was only beginning_ **

**_I met him._ **

_The Princess Diarist -_ Carrie Fisher

The doors of the train car opened to reveal a sea of people, some clad in suits, others in casual wear, and a few repping merchandise from their universities. Carrie had never been on campus, spare never have even been within the city. Instead of asking for advice on how to arrive at her dormitory, Carrie filled her Metrocard with a single ride’s fare and swiped herself and her luggage in, hoping that this station was on the correct side of town. 

Quickly, she strolled into the train car, praying that this was the right line, going directly uptown. She saw people in sweatshirts presenting her college, easing her nerves, but others in the same sweaters, except those, were ironed with NYU. 

Carrie glared around, looking for a place to sit. The few strangers beside empty seats did not look too welcoming. She grabbed hold of a metal pole, feeling her body jut into it as the train took off, speeding past the unfamiliar subway stations. 

It had been difficult for Carrie to feel out of place. She was respectfully outspoken, thought of herself as smart, and based on the compliments from her high school boyfriend, was decently nice-looking. Carrie didn’t come from a wealthy family, she didn’t attend a private Catholic school or take piano lessons, but she had never taken into account how underprivileged she was from the rest of her peers. 

When she opened her acceptance letter from Columbia University, she was sat on a wicker porch swing, drinking green tea to calm her nerves and watching the neighbors’ children play ball in the street. Her grades were near the top of her class, she volunteered on the weekends, and she had her French teacher write a two-page long letter of recommendation, but she didn’t expect to read that she had been accepted into the Ivy League. Her mother had dropped out of college in her first semester and her father hadn’t finished high school, there was no one in her immediate family that would have ever been expected to go to a school out-of-state, nevertheless one of the top schools in the country. 

Looking around on the train, Carrie noticed that most of the people wearing Columbia’s sweatshirts were fumbling around on their cells, others chatting away. She looked down to her own clothes, a worn t-shirt and jeans, nothing notable. The people who would soon represent her student body wore jeans as well, it was a cold day, but theirs were much more expensive judging by her naked eye, and she couldn’t dream of wiping out her phone there, still having a flip phone whilst everyone else’s was up to date. 

With her father completely out of the picture, Carrie had spent her adolescent life living with her mother and younger brother, the three of them often living with her grandparents when money was low. They currently resided in Illinois, two hours from Chicago, although Carrie rarely had the funds to travel into it. Their home was small, constructed with brick and painted yellow, the paint scraping off to expose the burnt umber coloring of the brick. She lived in a moderately nice neighborhood, no crime, scandals, or brothels, but no homes exceeded three bedrooms, there were no pools, no lush lawns to mow. Her bedroom was the only second-story room in their home, planted right above the attached garage. The ceiling slanting down caused Carrie the need to stoop down when she walked around most of her room. The room lacked true decoration, but her walls were painted white and decorated with handwritten quotes, photographs of her friends, polaroids of scenery, and a calendar from two years past. She had a small desk that doubled as a vanity, her laptop she saved up minimum wage for sitting in the center and a light-up mirror on the right side, her makeup strewn into one of the drawers. The carpet in her room was shaggy, matted down in various places, and her bed was a twin, situated beside a pinboard where she tacked up all of her academic achievements. Her room had the bare minimums, a bed and a desk, and what was pinned and taped onto her wall were either given to her, hand-drawn, or printed at the local Rite-Aid. 

The kitchen was hardly a kitchen, only containing one cabinet and a stove, their fridge in the garage. Everyone shared one bathroom, with a shower so small that you could barely turn around in it. The living room consisted of a worn chenille couch and television with rabbit ears. 

In college Carrie’s room would be tall enough to stand in, windows large enough to view something more than just a tree branch, the communal kitchen with more accommodations than a stove, hopefully with a fridge that was always cool enough. She’d never been on the subway before, but she could already tell that the people around her weren’t too fond of it, noticing the grime around the door and how the seats were crucially faded. At home, she didn’t even have a car of her own. 

Carrie’s home life wasn’t terrible, though, spare that their home was too small for three people and that they couldn’t afford anything else. She was incredibly close to her brother growing up, taking him underneath her wing after their father had walked out. Being the eldest child, and the main earner of the household when her mother was between jobs, Carrie carried the stress of the entire family beneath her. The only outlet that Carrie had to relieve her stress was her boyfriend, Paul.

Carrie had struggled to find her place in their relationship, always wondering if she was too controlling, too lenient, too rough, too soft. Paul didn’t do much more than entertain her arguments, their grievances being brought up almost daily. Their relationship was in various states of disrepair, Carrie somedays thinking that it was fine, others wanting to just throw in the towel. But, there was nothing for her to do other than to date him. She was too busy with schoolwork to interact much with her classmates, too busy at work to make extra cash than to chit-chat with coworkers, and too stressed to talk to her brother as much as she wanted to. Paul was driven to communicate with her, whether that being good or bad, thus she stayed, even when she shouldn’t have. There was no _true_ love between the two of them, although Carrie sent him love notes and kissed him when they’d meet. Keeping him as her boyfriend was a chore, and she had clearly fallen out of love with him just as quickly as she had fallen into love. There was something with the fight, though, something that would pull them together to fight like mad, to verbally injure the other, that kept her motivated. She wanted to get out of the town she lived in, of course for college, but mainly to never have to see Paul again.

Other than her brother, though, Paul was one of the only people who consoled Carrie after her dad had left, and his family let her and her brother live at his place until her mother could get them back on their feet. They’d known each other since the last year of elementary school, had grown to love each other in a platonic way after seeing each other in school for so long. 

College would be different, though. She’d be a thirteen-hour drive away from Paul, could use school as an excuse not to call him, could text him lawyer puns to amuse him when she couldn’t spend an hour and a half on Skype. Things were settled between the two, and they had decided on a temporary break until Carrie had finished her first semester. That way she could adjust to college and her new surroundings. Paul, surprisingly, didn’t object. 

Carrie was set to study political science in hopes of forging a law career. The only way to dig herself out of debt from student loans and to let her family live in peace was to make more money than she knew how to spend, and with that, being a lawyer seemed to be a good decision. 

Resting her head onto the cold metal of the pole, Carrie felt her body jerk again, eyeing a map beside the doors. She skimmed the map, squinting her eyes and hoping that the man sitting beneath the map didn’t find her intimidating. Nothing on the map was recognizable, looking for a street she knew the name of other than Broadway seemed impossible. 

“You’re going uptown, on the 1. Local.” The man below the map shifted one of his headphones off of his ear and snapped his fingers to make sure that Carrie could hear him. “Where’re you getting off?”

“Columbia?” Carrie spoke over the speaker, telling passengers to stand clear of the closing doors before the train once again began to travel. “Somewhere in Harlem, I think.”

“One-sixteenth, listen to the conductor, can’t miss it.” He smiled, sliding his headphone back onto his ear and tucking his beanie below his eyes, tipping back his head and blocking the bottom half of the map. 

Carrie was expecting something exciting as she walked out of the station, seeing the city skyline coming into view, or at least the Empire State Building, but she found herself so far uptown that she saw nothing, except for the gates to the university, a bookstore, and a Duane Reade. She prepared for the buzzing city as a whole to make her feel minuscule, but there was nothing of substance. She saw dozens of students passing by her, but this part of the city was nowhere near as busy as the rest. 

As she sat down on a bench and pulled her compact from her purse, Carrie ran kohl liner on her waterline and licked her lips one last time. She stood up again, making sure that she had grabbed her belongings, and took one last look at the compact in her hand, scrawled with the name of a local beauty supply store, in Aurora, Chicago. 

The dorm that Carrie was placed in was much larger than her bedroom at home. There was room enough for a full-size bed, enough rooms on the walls to put 24x36 posters everywhere instead of magazine clippings. The closet was spacious, and there was a window that let the room soak in sunlight. Granted, Carrie didn’t need as much room as she had, after all, the room was only around six feet wide and the walls were double that, but it was still larger than the room above the garage. She had to remember, though, that the bed parallel to her’s would soon have her roommate sitting upon it, their posters taking up wall space, any type of mini-fridge or bean bag they had brought from home taking up floor space. 

Taking a deep breath, she rolled in her luggage, began to hang her clothing on white plastic hangers, and tossed her pillow from home onto the bed. 

There was no one in the common room of her dorm yet, no one else arriving at the other rooms around her. It was early in the morning, the sun hanging low, the sky still traced with the pink of a sunrise, not yet entirely blue. 

Classes started the next morning, her first class being Economics, taking place on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tuesdays they begun at seven in the morning, Thursday’s classes began at four in the afternoon. She wasn’t opposed to waking up early, neither was she leaving class late, but the concept of Economics was unappealing. It was a course required that she take, so whether she would’ve wanted to take it or not, it was destined to end up onto her schedule one semester or another. There was nothing wrong with numbers, nothing wrong with money, but there was nothing that particularly pertained towards law in the course, the subject that she had dedicated herself to studying beforehand throughout high school, and was set on entering law school after obtaining her bachelor degree. 

Yet again, as someone who currently majored in political science, economics fell into that category. 

Drifting away from thoughts of courses, Carrie stopped stowing away her things and turned her body to face the door to her dorm room as she heard a small knock. “You can come in,” Carrie gave whoever was outside the right of passage, yet stayed still in caution. 

“Room 331?” A woman with pale hair that lay lightly on her shoulders, carrying a cardboard box in her right hand and arm, dragging a suitcase with her left hand, walked through the door, pushing it the rest of the way open with her body. 

“I’d say so,” Carrie’s lips turned into a smile, as she recognized a key matching hers falling from the woman’s fingers. Her roommate had arrived, boxes and all. “My name’s Carrie, it’s nice to meet you.” Carrie brushed a short piece of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and tugged down her brown sweater as she turned her head to watch where her roommate was going to place her things. 

“Carrie…,” the blonde shrugged, saying Carrie’s name again as she sat down onto her bed. “I like that.” She unfolded herself and lay back, looking up to the ceiling and twiddling her thumbs. 

“My mother liked the name at the time, but now that I’m nineteen she thinks that it’s boring,” Carrie let out a short, small laugh that served as more of a hum before she began to hang up her clothing again. “She says that Carrie sounds like a lawyer, and I’m here for political science, so I guess she wasn’t too far off.”

“My name’s Jillian, and I guess that’s basic too,” Jillian took a lock of her hair and curled it around her finger. “My father named me after one of his ex-girlfriends.”

“Well that’s fucking tragic,” Carrie looked to Jillian. “But my father walked out when I was ten, so we’re even.”

“Sucks to hear that,” the corner of Jillian’s mouth drooped as she spoke. “At least now you’re in a nice college and you have an, if I do say so myself, amazing roommate.” 

“I was beginning to believe that I was the only normal person here. Everyone seems so put together, so wealthy.” 

“I’m not one of them, not one of the people only accepted to an Ivy because their parents have the money to waste on educating their dumb child. I’m working on a degree in economics.” 

“Economics? What job are you looking to get in the field?” Carrie questioned her roommate, trying to find some interest in the tedious subject.

“A transponster,” Jillian smiled, matter-of-factly. 

“A what?” 

“Haven’t you watched _Friends_?” Jillian sat up on the bed, side-eying Carrie as she hung her clothes. 

“We didn’t grow up watching television.”

“God, who are you? E.T.?” Jillian laughed. “No, but, I’m aspiring to be a forensic accountant.” 

“Ah,” Carrie finished hanging things up, the contents of her first suitcase bare. “I have to take an economics course for my major, but I can’t find any way that I’m going to enjoy it.” 

“What are you wanting to do after graduating?” Jillian tore the duct tape off of one of her cardboard boxes and slipped out a notebook, sitting it onto her bedside table and pulling out more school supplies, likely to organize.

“Once I get my bachelor’s I’ll take the LSAT and try for law school,” Carrie stuffed her suitcase into the closet and pushed all of her clothing to one side, as she would share the closet space with Jillian. Carrie closed the door and walked over to her own bed, sitting down opposite her roommate. 

“Law? Then I suppose you’ll be intrigued that our economics professor is planning to run for president in the next election.”

“What’s his name?” Carrie found herself intrigued at the statement, but there was no reason an economics professor would run for president. A political economics professor, sure, but a professor for basic economics only knows about economical issues, not having a deeper understanding of social, military, or educational issues. 

“I don’t know, but I think that I have his class tomorrow morning,” Jillian smiled as she opened a pencil case, tossing in a few colored cap erasers.

“Does he know anything about politics?”

“He does humanitarian work a lot, and he knows our mayor pretty well. His wife doesn’t want him to run for president at all though. She thinks that he still has time to change his mind, after all, 2008 is two years from now, but apparently, he’s working on finding a sponsor.” 

“How do you know all of this? I barely knew what building our dorm room was in, even with a map,” Carrie laughed at herself as she questioned Jillian. 

“My brother knew him. He was his teacher here a few years back. He’s strict, but he cares about his students. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“I hope that he brings up the president thing tomorrow. I’ll need something good to laugh at between finances and profits,” Carrie’s voice stayed dead-pan, a cool alto tone. She wasn’t the one to chuckle or smile after every sentence, but she sprinkled the two expressions throughout conversations. “You know, I’m only here because my mom wants me to have a good future. I’m not interested in law, but I’ll make do. Who knows? It might be entertaining.”

Their conversation soon drawled to a stop, Jillian beginning to hang up posters and Carrie reading a book, a luxury she would soon not have time for. They both made small talk, talking of friends from home and what inspired them to decide their retrospective majors. Carrie stayed in all day, tidying up and finishing her book, while Jillian went out to eat with friends a few years older. 

Carrie showered late that night when Jillian came home, staying out from noon to midnight. Jillian braided her hair back in an English braid as she was getting ready for bed, Carrie braiding her hair in two braids, enjoying the compliment that Jillian gave her on her styling skills. 

Carrie knew as if she and Jillian would make wonderful friends. Jillian was hilarious, although not the smartest, and she could expose Carrie to _Friends_. Another bonus was that, while their majors differed vastly, they would have the same professor for economics. 

Of course, Carrie would feel out of place for a bit at Columbia, everyone would. Making one friend pushed her spirits up, which left her feeling that tomorrow would be better than she had expected. 

Paul had not crossed Carrie’s mind at all since she had arrived. Having him as her partner had begun to feel irrelevant. There was no reason that they should have stayed together after she had left home, nor should they have stayed together after he had cheated on her, but Carrie’s relationship with him felt mature, and that they could work on things. Still, as Carrie reflected on her homelife falling asleep, he wasn’t included. 

↯

The ever-so-familiar scent of the first day of school, eraser shavings and early morning air followed Carrie as she sat down. A chalkboard, green and filled with marks of erased writings, showed the age of the classroom. She sat down on a blue chair, the kind with egg-shaped backs and the tendency to give just enough to let your back rest. A ceiling fan rotated slowly above the desks and the light in the room was produced by wide, long windows to her right. Inside her desk, Carrie slid in her textbook and notepad, eyeing the other students as they filed in. 

This was not what she wanted to do. 

Academics were fine in high school. Challenging, yes, but they were bearable. Four years of political science, lectures on parties, essays on physiological reasons, and hours upon hours spent in classrooms and libraries, listening to people speak and flipping through crisp book pages with her fingernails; the whole idea seemed as if it was the first circle of hell, quickly escalating to the ninth as she would enter law school and begin a career in family matters and classified information. Looking around, at the men in button-down Polos and khakis, the women in all black blazers and dresses, caramel hair straight down their back, chunky blonde highlights having grown out; they would become lawyers, they would become politicians. They weren’t smiling, per se, but they all had nice posture, a poised look on their face, communicating that, while they could have been hammered the night before, they were there to learn and to apply themselves. 

Carrie had always pictured herself that way, but as she let her cheek rest on her fist, her mouth drooping to one corner, her bangs in her eyes but not caring enough to move them, she knew that she had already made a wrong decision. 

Picking at her thumb, she attempted to suppress Jillian’s mention to her earlier that morning that she was, in fact, not taking the same class as Carrie, that they just had ended up with the same teacher. The room was almost filled, spare an empty desk beside her and her professor nowhere to be found. Carrie’s watch read that class would start in five minutes, leaving her to presume the professor had no sense of duty to arrive at his job. 

The class was finally set to start as she heard the backdoor open one last time, the desk beside her already filled, as heavy footsteps glazed across the wood flooring. Carrie turned, unable to see what their professor looked like, though, as she was too short. She looked down and waited for him to reach the front of the room. 

Alas, as he appeared, he turned almost immediately to scrawl onto the chalkboard. From what Carrie could observe, he was in a black suit, although his shoes were brown. _Economics I_ fit an arm’s length section of the board. 

“Why do all of you want to be here?” The question echoed through the room, asked in a serious manner, but the slight smirk on the professor's face showed no sign of legitimacy. _I don’t want to be._ Taking her notebook and her pen in her left hand, Carrie slowly raised her right hand, subtly turning it shrugging as it made its way into the air. “What’s your name and reason?” As he wrote _Professor Ford_ onto the board, he pointed to Carrie. 

“Carrie,” Carrie forced a smile, her professor turning around to her, and Carrie finally seeing his face. “I’m going into law school.” 

“A lawyer?” He let a toothy grin peak through his lips. “Why do you think you’ll excel with that?” 

“I’d like to argue the world into a better place.” Carrie sighed and looked down. _What a shitty answer._

“Funny, humor’ll get you far, not too far but far enough.” He asked more students about what they aspired to make a career out of, as Carrie attempted to relax in her seat, finding her shirt sticking to her back from the heat of the room and her feet tapping against the floor out of the anxiety that came from trying to be funny and feeling the flatness of her humor. 

Carrie read along with him and the class, taking notes in her notebook, ignoring most of the professor’s lecture and just staring at him, trying to get a feel for who he was. He was mildly attractive, sure, that day his hair had been a bit rough, but his suit was pressed, and his glasses were impossibly straight, the frames hitting millimeters below his brows and their round frames framing his face. 

As the class was dismissed and Carrie was on her way out the door, she felt someone tap her shoulder. “I think the professor wants to speak with you,” a blonde woman steered her shoulder to the front of the room, their professor beckoning her back with his hand.

“Thanks,” Carrie said as she began to walk back to the chalkboard. She walked slowly, not totally sure that she was the right person to be walking up there. As she stopped walking fully in front of his desk, she began to laugh. 

“What’s funny?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that I haven’t done anything wrong, and out of everyone to talk to after class you choose me.” 

“You want to be a lawyer, don’t you?”

  
“Yes, we’ve gone over this,” Carrie made eye contact with him. “How come?” 

“I’m running for office and I need my campaign up and running by Christmas,” he looked down to a stack of papers beneath him, all of them containing the words ‘presidential’ and ‘candidate.’ “There are a few people on campus who already know, and I think I overheard someone talking about the subject yesterday. My name’s Harrison Ford if that rings a bell.” 

“My roommate’s mentioned you,” Carrie told him, still confused as to why she felt the need to explain to her his plans. 

“That’s good,” Harrison moved his hand through his hair, then rest his elbow against his chair. “I need someone to help with my campaign, getting it in check, researching laws and filling out paperwork.” 

“I only know one person who goes here, I don’t think that I could help you find someone to do that,” Carrie bit her lip for a second, going through the students she had seen that day. “I mean, I probably could, but I don’t _know_ anyone who could help you.” 

“I’m talking about you.” 

Carrie was taken back, inhaling sharply and becoming rigid in her stance. As he spoke, she had become more comfortable, letting her hands touch the desk, sulking down a bit. She blinked, then let out a small scoff. There was no time for her to truly think, though, Harrison was looking at her, and she didn’t want to seem like an idiot. _Confidence._

As she rested her palms onto the desk, her arms straight, her back pressed out and her ankles crossed, she let a smile grace her lips. Her head tilted down momentarily, her hair falling in her face, long bangs drifting against her chin. “You sure that you want a student to do this?” 

Harrison shifted his eyes up to her face, forgetting the paperwork below them. His lips parted to speak, but he closed them almost immediately. He looked back to down to his desk, scribbling on his large yellow notepad. As he sat his pen down, he tore the page with writing and pushed it against Carrie’s hand. “What? Do you think you aren’t up for the job?” 

“No, it’s just that,” Carrie looked down, grabbing the paper, noticing that what she presumed Harrison’s address was scrawled upon it. “Isn’t that... Illegal? A student helping you with these things? Surely I’ll be going to places with you off-campus.”

“You’re nineteen, do you care if it’s legal or not?” Harrison tilted back in his swivel chair, arms on both armrests. A lawyer, teaching a class required for a political science degree, questions his student on if she wants to do something illegal for him. 

Carrie was tempted to tell him about her roommate, the stories she had told, but Carrie pursed her lips, her teeth sinking into her lips and a smile beginning to curve. “I don’t know what to say,” her hair fell back down in her face. “You’re asking a nineteen-year-old student to help her professor become the president of the United States. Are you fucking crazy?” 

“You’re fucking crazy for not taking up the offer as soon as I mentioned it. You’re a political science major, you aspire to be a lawyer. You’re getting experience, you’re getting a recommendation letter for law school by the entire country if this doesn’t fall through.” 

“Don’t you have friends you could do this with? A wife?” Carrie hadn’t thought of Harrison having a wife, hadn’t realized he would be in a relationship, but as he spoke to her he ran his left hand through his hair, and then pushed back down his wedding ring, which had slid up onto his ring finger, the band slightly loose. 

“Yeah, I’ve got friends. I’ve got a wife,” Harrison paused momentarily, weighing his options on what all to tell Carrie, whether to confess that his marriage was on the rocks or to tell her that he was happy with her, but weary to pull her into the political world. “They’ve been in the business for years, my wife’s heard me talk about big government and free speech our entire marriage, but you’re new to the field.” Harrison toyed with his ring, shaking his head and letting his eyes drop down and his posture to relax. “I could write down more than you know about this in ten seconds. I need someone who sees the world in your generation’s eyes. I can’t run a campaign based off of my thirty-four-year-old self's point of view.” 

“I don’t think I’m right for this,” Carrie pushed the strap of her bag onto her shoulder, turning her heels slightly, not at all confident in her decision. “Thank you for your offer, but I have a degree to worry about.” 

She turned around and rolled her eyes, unimpressed with her use of language. The last sentence she spoke was too professional, too snobby. While it was true that she wanted to fully apply herself to school, seriously becoming a lawyer wasn’t something that she expected herself to do. Her family was poor, their house too small, her brother failing school; she knew that she was their only hope, not realizing that she should have put herself first until she had already been accepted into college. 

Carrie wanted an education, sure, but becoming a lawyer was unpractical and stressing. She turned around as she reached the door frame looked to the dust collecting on the oak, the turned hinges. She was walking out of the greatest opportunity of her life, walking out of a portal into a world of unknowns, when she would be secured with an interesting - but non-paying - job, becoming friends with a professor. Taking a turn around, looking back at her professor, him being turned around and sweeping the bristly eraser over the chalkboard. 

Carrie was smart, smart enough not to take up an offer by someone whom she barely knew, but not smart enough to forget about it. After taking a few steps outside of the room, she turned around again, pressing her arm onto the doorframe, staring at the back of Harrison’s suit. “I’ll take it.” 

Her voice echoed through the large, empty room, her voice confident, loud and clear. Harrison turned around, sitting the eraser onto his desk. “‘You free tomorrow night?” 

“Does seven work?” Carrie took her arm off of the doorframe, letting it hang loose beside her. 

“Yeah, my office is the first bedroom to the right.” By the time he had begun to explain, he was sat back at his desk, mapping out a trail with the end of his pen. 

↯

“Then, he asks me if I want to help him with his campaign,” Carrie laughed, her back flat on her bed, ranting to Jillian as she applied mascara, staring into her compact. “I don’t even know his political party, how’m I going to manage a fucking campaign.” 

“Do you think his wife knows?” Jillian ran kohl liner across her waterline, having moved on from perfecting her lashes. 

“Does that matter?” Carrie knew the answer. “What matters is that I was stupid enough to tell him I’d meet him tomorrow night at seven.” 

Jillian sat down her compact. She stared at Carrie, her eyes shifting slightly. “You’re an idiot.” 

“No, I’m not, I’m just doing a good deed that could turn into a terrible one. I wasn’t going to help, y’know, I’ve got school and college experiences to partake in, but then I remember that he’s told me that he doesn’t want help from his friends or even his wife with this, just help from me, this horrible student who had ignored his teachings half of the time I was in his room, and I highlighted my notes in as many colors of Sharpies I could find in my purse the other half.” Carrie had been looking towards the popcorn ceiling but turned her head to Jillian. “I’m sorry, but I’m nineteen. What am I going to do? Stand at a podium and announce to the world that, after much consideration, my fifty years of political experience has inclined me to help Harrison Ford, a colleague of mine for decades, with his run for office? God, I _am_ an idiot. ” 

“Tell him that you can’t do this, that it’s a bad decision for both of you. Volunteer to make some campaign shirts with an art major and pitch the design to him, better yet, sleep with him!” Jillian’s eyes widened, being totally serious. “That’ll bring your grade up a lot higher than it would with you just helping him with his lousy campaign.” 

“Sleep with him? C’mon, he’s married. For all I know he probably has a nice little farmhouse right outside the city, where he and his wife raise chicken and he throws around a baseball with his son,” Carrie exhaled looking back to the ceiling and remembering to never take Jillian’s advice too seriously. “I’m not doing this for a better grade, Hell I could care less about college at this point. I took one step into that classroom and knew that I was only here because my family pressured me into this and I wanted to cut off ties with that shitty boyfriend of mine that I’ve probably already missed five calls from in the last hour or two.” 

“You’re at this prestigious school, one that you’ll have a bachelor’s from and then stick around to finish with a law degree too. How are you going to survive here not enjoying it?” Carrie felt that Jillian was no one to speak. Carrie didn’t discriminate towards IQ’s, but the woman had just told her to sleep with the professor she had viewed as shady twenty-four hours earlier. 

“There’s a lot of smart people here. Smart people probably organize the best parties,” Carrie shrugged her shoulders, circling her thumbs around as she clasped her hands. “Who am I kidding? I know I’m not kidding myself. I want to have the drive to be studious, have the drive to succeed, but god damn, I don’t want a part in any of this. I only did well in high school because I had no other choice.” 

“You’re nineteen, leave,” Jillian stood up from her bed and smoothed out her cardigan, its heavy fabric dragging down her shoulders. “It’s your choice. Leave while you can, or else you’ll be stuck hating yourself for the rest of your awful life.”

“I know,” As much as Carrie wished that there were words for her to say that could contradict that statement, she closed the Rolodex of excuses inside of her brain and brushed her hair to her left shoulder. “But being stuck with this is a lot better than being stuck with what I had before.” 

“Well, you’re ready to go out, aren’t you?” Jillian motioned to Carrie, beckoning for her to sit up. “We have our first college party to go to.” 

“I’ll just stay here for tonight, I’ve got a lot of shit that I need to figure out,” Carrie sat up on her bed and sighed. “Have fun.” She waved goodbye, Jillian winking as she shut the door. 

↯

“I’ll need you to fill this out for me,” Harrison took a piece of paper from the printer, _Statement of Candidacy_ printed in bold at the very top. Carrie had just walked through the door of his home office as he reached his arm back and pointed the paper towards her. “If you don’t know what to fill out ask me.”

“What am I? Your secretary?” Carrie looked around for a spare chair as she spoke. The only chair she saw was the leather one where Harrison was sitting, the rest of the room filled with two tall bookcases, his desk, and a Persian rug. 

“You’re helping me out, not too professional,” Harrison opened a new tab on his computer as Carrie settled for leaning against one of the bookcases. She took down one of the larger books and grasped it with her arm, using it as a makeshift desk. “Here’s a pen,” Harrison opened one of his desk drawers, Carrie wincing as she heard the cherry oak scrape against itself. He tossed her the pen, the pen landing perfectly onto the book she held. 

“Political affiliation?” Carrie asked him, looking up from the form as he glanced up from his computer screen. 

“Liberal?” 

“ _Dem-o-cratic_ ,” Carrie spoke to herself as she filled the form out, along with taking note of how smooth the ink was that came out of the pen. 

“Same difference,” Harrison looked back to his computer screen, sending another form to his printer. 

“Office sought?” 

“ _Office sought_?” 

“You’re the one here running for president,” Carrie smiled as she watched his confused look vanish as he did a quick google search. 

“Presidential.” 

The continuation of asking for answers carried on for five minutes or so, dying down as the printer fed out new forms. 

Carrie tapped her pen against the book repeatedly, trying to fill up empty space in their conversations. Harrison had three degrees hung onto his walls, and the books which filled the bookshelves had titles so long that they were agitating for Carrie to even glance at. Occasionally, Harrison would rest his chin between his thumb and index finger on his left hand, typing slowly with the other. As Carrie would write out longer answers, he’d roll his eyes over towards her, observing her quick handwriting and the way she would let her bottom lip catch on her teeth as she concentrated. 

“When are you starting your campaign?” Carrie broke the silence, her voice louder than she had expected for it to be. 

“As soon as I mail off the papers we’re filling out today,” Harrison leaned back in his chair, letting his legs swing up from the floor, rocking back and forth instead of their locked, stationary position. “I’m going to tour nationally starting this winter, then I’ll move out of New York once the primaries begin.” 

“So, you have about a year to convince the people of America that you’re fit to lead their country,” Carrie handed the paper she had finished to Harrison, then picked up the conversation as he placed it into a grey filing folder. “Who’s going on the road to help you?” 

“I’d like to say my wife, then eventually whomever I choose to run with me, whoever the fuck that turns out to be,” Harrison sat up straight again, taking a stack of papers and placing them into the same folder as before. “I’ve only heard of a few people that I’d want so far.” 

Carrie knew that she should’ve worried about Harrison’s vice president, after all, you can’t run a country without a cabinet, but she was still concerned as to why his wife wouldn’t want to be part of this. “How’d your wife like to be the first lady? I mean, it’s a lot of responsibility, a lot of spotlights. Gotta wear this, have your hair done that way, stick with the president, oh, and you have an idea about a new law? Propose it to your husband instead of doing it yourself. It isn’t fair, really.” 

“She’ll like the no work part of it,” Harrison sighed, looking to Carrie. “I think she wants children, and I don’t want any right now, per se, especially not with the chance of maybe leading a country. They’d be too in the limelight, and I’m pure shit when it comes to babies and kids.” 

“So there’s no fantasy of having three sons like the Kennedy’s, is there?” Carrie tittered.

  
“I mean, for her, of course, there is. She’s not 100 percent behind this, but she isn’t against any luxuries that’ll come from it.”

Carrie stayed quiet for too long, Harrison raising his brow temporarily as he looked to her. She didn’t see how anyone wouldn’t support Harrison. His idea was insane, seemingly impossible to pull off, but, for some reason, she was sticking behind it. Carrie didn’t know his stances, only loosely identified with either political party, but she almost automatically was drawn towards him to help. 

There was a certain attractiveness he carried with himself, confidence mixed with judgment. Granted, he wasn’t the most entertaining teacher, nor the most diligent, but he portrayed himself as smart. There was the cockiness and smirk his outer appearance glowed of, the men your parents tell you never to have sex with and the ones your girlfriends will tell you to explore.

Harrison leaned on the side of being cold, less talkative than others and better at dealing with himself personally. He had an edge, a thin line of being boring and pulling you in with every word. 

Carrie studied him for another minute, then cleared her throat. “Sorry, I was, reading one of the papers,” she paused momentarily. “What else do you need help with?” 

“I don’t think there’s really anything that I need to do today,” Harrison reclined back in his chair, then scrolled down his computer page. “There’s a lot more paperwork to do, but I’ll do it this weekend.” 

“Want my help with that?” 

“No, go off and do college shit. Party, have fun,” Harrison looked down towards the silver watch that wrapped around his wrist. “My wife's coming back at around eight. You’ve got a paper due Monday, page long, remember that.” 

“Thanks,” Carrie rolled her eyes, “thought you’d exempt me from it for helping you out.” She laughed, as she pushed her purse onto her shoulder. 

“I’ll see you..?”

“Tuesday, then Thursday, then whenever you want me outside of class.” 

“Have fun doing your lawyer homework,” Harrison closed the tabs on his computer and stowed away the file. 

“Have fun..,” Carrie stalled, looking at him as she had one foot out his office door. _Doing what? His work? His wife?_ “I’ll see you soon.” 

↯

  
  


“Carrie, meet Mark,” Carrie was greeted by Jillian and the man who she presumed to be Mark as she opened the dorm to their dorm room. “I met him when I went out on Tuesday night.” 

“Hey, Mark,” Carrie sat down her purse beside the door as she sat on her bed, Mark and Jillian opposite her. “Are you two a thing or…?” 

“Oh no, not yet, well, not officially,” Mark replied to Carrie’s question, Jillian gripping his thigh. “We just saw each other Tuesday and we’ve been hanging around each other since.” 

“How was your date tonight?” Jillian winked and raised her brows to Carrie. 

“He’s married, Jill,” Carrie rolled back onto her bed, facing the ceiling and beginning to play with her necklace in her hands. “I’m not going to be a homewrecker.” 

“You know you want to,” Jillian stood up from the bed and grabbed a comb. “It’d be fun.” Mark glared up to her, temporarily conflicted on her view, then mesmerized by Jillian passing the comb through her hair. 

“You’re fucking whipped,” Carrie laughed as Mark rolled his eyes to the side of the room opposite Jillian. 

“So are you,” Jillian tilted her head to Carrie, referring back to her and Harrison’s time together that day. “I give it two weeks before you two have sex.” 

“Two weeks? C’mon, I could’ve already done him if I had wanted it,” Carrie continued to stare at the ceiling, dropping her necklace and picking it up in swift motions, letting it drop from her hands every two heartbeats. “We shouldn’t even be mentioning this.”

“Why? You were so eager to rant to me about Harrison two days ago,” Jillian sat her comb down, walking back over to Mark. Her perfume followed her as she moved, the flowery scent seeping across the room. 

“Who’s Harrison?” Mark stood up and fixed his button-up, diverting his attention away from Jillian. 

“Mark, what’s your major?” 

“Drama,” Mark smiled. “But I’m down at Tisch.”

“Oh, thank God,” Carrie sat back up, glaring hard to Jillian. “Someone can’t keep their mouth shut about my private life inside of my own school.” 

“What? Is he some kid in your international law class?” 

“God, you know too much already,” Carrie opened her nightstand, taking out a lighter and lighting the sandalwood candle beneath her lamp. 

“He’s her _professor_ ,” Jillian winked, talking seductively. “He invited her to his house after class. Supposedly, they work on forms and chit-chat politics since he’s running for office, but I think differently.” 

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” 

“I’m going out,” Jillian’s keys were soon grasped in her left palm, and her purse was clutched in her right. “Mark?”

“It was nice meeting you,” Mark stood up and waved to Carrie as he followed Jillian out the dorm, brushing his hand through his bangs and catching up to his girlfriend. 

The ceiling fan turned slowly above Carrie, and the slight buzz from the battery pack of Jillian’s string lights was the only sound occupying the bedroom. What was it that she wanted from Harrison?

Harrison had been kind to her, giving her instructions and making small talk. Compassionate, no, but at least he was warming up. He was.. _Cool._ Harrison had to be over thirty-five, or at least turn thirty-five before Election Day. She was nineteen, immature, too young to even be associated with him. 

Carrie was lucky to be working for him, even if she was an unpaid secretary. Her resume would be what benefited the most from working with him. She didn’t gain extra credit, barely gained a friendship. Jillian was beyond convinced that the two would hook up, but the probability was increasingly low. He was married, and his wife wanted children. He was settling down, and Carrie’s life was just getting started. 

Her phone rang, with Paul’s name popping up on the caller id. 

“Hey, babe,” Paul’s voice carried over the phone, loud and low. “Haven’t heard from you in a few days.” 

“College’s been a pain in the ass,” Carrie reluctantly spoke into the phone, preparing for him to begin to scream into her ear. “But, I’ll try and call more. I’ve just been _so_ busy.” 

“I started at Urbana today, I get it.” _Praise the Lord._ “Although, here it’s more of too many parties, rather than too many classes.” 

“I wish. I haven’t been to a party since I’ve arrived here,” Carrie walked to the closet, her phone sitting on her shoulder and her ear tilted down to touch it. “You sure you aren’t mad I haven’t called.” 

“It’s okay. I’ve got to go,” Paul screamed something inaudible to someone, or a group of people, behind him. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” Carrie cringed, ending the call. She closed her flip phone, sighing and chucking it across the room, it landing perfectly onto Jillian’s pillow. She didn’t like to lie to anyone, especially not someone she has an emotional bond with, but, what was there for her to love about Paul? 

He’d be sweet and a caretaker to her one week, then the next he’d be undressing her neighbor in her garage, then pitying himself when Carrie caught him. She could never cheat on someone, never put them through what Paul had taxed her with. Yet again, she was still with Paul, and, to be totally honest with herself, she didn’t care that he had cheated on her. She wasn’t in love with him, couldn’t be in love with someone who had repeatedly disrespected her, but she could pretend, and she could hold on to their few good memories. 

↯

“How much more paperwork?” Carrie thumbed through the growing pile of papers sitting on Harrison’s desk. “It seems to me that you have the entire library of Congress here.” 

“I wish that I did,” Harrison fumbled with the settings on his printer. “That’d make our research easier.” 

Harrison looked up to Carrie, locking eyes with her for a moment. She smiled, looking down at the package of gel pens in her hand. As Harrison glanced back to his desktop, Carrie rolled her eyes back to him, then to his stack of papers as he spun his desk chair around. 

“So, I guess that we should sort these forms into top priority and low,” Carrie tugged down her skirt and sat the pens onto Harrison’s desk, picking up a handful of papers and inserting them into a manila folder. “Did you finish your proof of residency last night?” 

“Yeah, I have it sitting on the kitchen table, I finished it over breakfast,” Harrison reached his hand to the pens, unboxing them and sitting them into an empty coffee mug. “I had to have my wife sign over a few things, she’s on the mortgage too.” 

“Should I go grab it?” 

“Sure, while you’re there check on Murphy, see if he’s got enough food in his bowl,” Harrison turned his chair back to face his computer. “He’s the dog, every president has a dog, right?” 

“Of course they do, that’s what solidifies them towards candidacy,” Carrie sat down Harrison’s files, pulling on her cardigan as she opened the office door. Turning the handle to close, Carrie laughed as she heard the patter of paws on the hardwood.

Jumping up to meet her level, wet paws reclining against her waist, Harrison’s golden retriever wagged his tail. “This is brand new! I got it for an interview,” Carrie laughed again as she crouched down to let Murphy lick her cheek. “You smell like a wet dog, you must’ve just come through a doggy door.” 

“C’mon, I bet you’re starving,” Carrie stood up and started down the hall, the dog already bounds ahead of her footsteps. As she found her way into the kitchen, Carrie slid off her heels and carried them in her hand, attempting to keep up with Murphy as he head to his food bowl. 

Carrie sifted through Harrison’s cabinets, finally finding the dog food, and poured the bowl full, patting Murphy on the head as she did so. Walking towards the kitchen table, the same cherry stained wood as the furnishings of Harrison’s office, she took notice of the ever-so-familiar stack of papers sitting on top of it. 

“ _Calista,”_ Carrie picked up Harrison’s proof of residency and read his wives name. “Sounds like a fucking chihuahua.” 

She chuckled to herself as she tucked the paper into an envelope and then under her arm, calling for Murphy to follow her back. 

There was nothing for Carrie to dislike about Harrison’s wife. She hadn’t heard anything negative about her, other than disagreeing with Harrison’s run for candidacy and having separate view points on potential children. It wasn’t that Carrie had feelings for Harrison, he was her professor. He was handsome, and smart, but he was also cold, and quiet boring. Carrie was nowhere near as educated as he was, nor as patient. She’d’ve wanted to file the papers for candidacy in an hour, then given up if it were impossible, but Harrison respected the system, genuinely wanted to be the president, for unknown reason to Carrie. All he had was this stupid idea to run a country, and, for some reason, she was behind him. 

“He’s not allowed in my office,” Harrison looked to Carrie, then Murphy behind her, as she opened the office door. 

“The fuck you mean he’s not allowed in your office?”

“He’s a dog, Carrie,” Harrison shrugged and started on another form. 

“He’s part of your family, Harrison. That’s low.” 

“Low? He’s an animal.”

Carrie rolled her eyes, squatting down onto the carpet, patting the ground and Murphy jogging towards her. “See? He’s a nice dog.” 

“Is he wet?” Harrison rubbed his hand against the golden fur, shaking water off. 

“He’s probably just gone outside, give it a rest,” Carrie smiled. “Look at him, isn’t he just great?” 

“The groomer dropped him off,” Harrison stared at the dog, shaking his head. “He’s my wife's dog, he’s never liked me.”

“It’s like you’re just thinking of reasons to divorce her,” Carrie muttered, scratching Murphy’s ear. “First she wants kids, then she doesn’t want you to be the president, and, to top it all off, she gives you this dog. I mean, if the dog is the problem, I’ll take him, he’s good company.” 

“There’s even more than that,” Harrison reclined in his chair some. “Can I see the paper?” 

“I’ve already sealed it in an envelope,” Carrie fished the envelope from under her arm. “Here.” 

“That’s exactly what I was going to do,” Harrison began to write his address and tack on a stamp. “Why’re you so dressed up today?”

“Oh, I’m going to interview for a job at the library,” Carrie ruffled Murphy’s fur and stood up, straightening her skirt as she did so. “I don’t have enough money from my scholarships and loans to live on much longer.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could be paying you,” Harrison took a sip of water from his water bottle. 

“No, it’s okay,” Carrie shuffled through a filing cabinet, taking out a folder. “I’m hardly ever here, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“If you really need the money, then start coming over two or three times a week instead of one, and I’ll pay you for it,” Harrison looked through his wallet, counting bills. “The library doesn’t even pay minimum wage, somehow they scrape by. I’ll be a lot busier heading towards this Christmas, you’re gonna deserve money for your work.” 

“Thanks,” Carrie smiled, fixing her skirt one more time, shrugging. “When would I be here?” 

“Whenever she isn’t home.” 

“Who? Your wife?” Carrie rolled her eyes, laughing. 

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Then why are you married? The more you tell me, the more miserable this sounds.” 

“I don’t want to divorce someone while I’m the president,” Harrison typed up a new document on his computer, stating that he had finished proof of residency. “No one will vote for me then.” 

“Bush is in office, I doubt they’d care that much.” 

Carrie watched as he printed, yet again, another document, with pre-bubbled answers this time, making her work easier. She took it from the paper tray and clicked her blue pen. 

“How old are you?” Carrie looked down at the paper, already scrawling in other answers. 

“I’m thirty-four,” Harrison opened his desk drawer and removed a pair of glasses. He slid the glasses on, their translucent frames blending into his face. “I’ll be thirty-five by July, though. Can’t wait to see how folks’ll react to that.”

Thirty-five. He was reaching his middle ages, perhaps already in them mentally, but he had little to nothing figured out in life from what Carrie had observed. Harrison was running for president, for starters, which she still saw to be somewhat insane; and he didn’t have a steady marriage either. 

Carrie was no one to talk, though, seeing as she and Paul were less than functional. The last time she had texted him, the conversation had ended with a fight, where all she had clapped back with was that she was busy and unable to respond. 

She was in a petty teenage relationship. 

Harrison was thirty-four, married. His wife wanted kids, and he didn’t. He wanted to, more or less, lead America, and his wife didn’t want him to. Carrie failed to see why he didn’t want kids, other than the sheer fact that they could take away an ounce of time spent on Harrison’s work in his presidency, which was stubborn on his part. She was in no position to have a child, barely even an adult, but it would be nice to have a person that was alive because of you and someone that you loved. There was no reason for his wife not to support his endeavors, other than the fact that he didn’t support her’s. Carrie didn’t love her lover, though, and that skewed her point of view.

“Would you like a cigarette?” Harrison pulled a pack from his drawer and Carrie diverted her eyes from the paper, breaking out of her thoughts. 

“What’re you doing? Waking up the cancer?” Carrie laughed as Harrison tapped the bottom of the package. “I haven’t smoked anything since high school, but I don’t mind if you want to.”

“ _Waking up the cancer_ ,” Harrison repeated her as he wrote the joke down. “I don’t very often, but I thought that you may want one.” 

“Get me stressed enough and I very well may.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Harrison closed the drawer and turned off his printer. “How’re your classes?”

“The answer I give to other professors is a simple ‘easy enough,’ but, they’re fucking awful.”

“What? You don’t enjoy school?” 

“I mean, it isn’t the worst thing that I could possibly do, but I’ve yet to find something to keep me busy other than you.”

↯

Jillian arched her toes to reach into a bag stuffed at the height of her closet, fumbling her hands around in it until she felt the scratchy sequins of a dress. Taking the dress out, she returned her heels to the floor and whipped the dress in front of her, getting out the kinks and trying to straighten it. Sighing, she bit her lip, then puckered her lips out again, attempting not to smudge lipstick onto her front teeth. 

“I really don’t see the fuss of all this,” Carrie eyed Jillian from the textbook on her knees, pulling on the ties of her sweatshirt. She underlined a passage of the text, rolling her eyes and wishing that she hadn’t taken on the extra work from Harrison. Two pages of Eastern philosophy by Monday wasn’t her idea of preparation for a political campaign. “You’re going to be on the train for forty minutes, do you really want to stand there with glitter scratching your armpits? Oh God, Jillian take off those heels.” 

Jillian continued to put her heels on, tying back her hair and collecting her cards. “Please come with me, please. It’ll be so much fun, I’m meeting up with some friends from NYU, then we’re all going to leave that school and go down to Brooklyn.”

“The train ride is going to be thirty minutes longer then. Just go with Mark to a party around here, there’s a fraternity on campus.” 

“Mark goes to NYU, you know,” Jillian winked, stuffing a wad of cash into her bra. “I make the trip all the time, it’s nothing.”

“Seems that I’ve forgotten, seeing as he’s in our dorm room all hours of the day,” Carrie sighed. Sitting her book down onto the mattress, she rolled her tongue on the roof of her mouth, contemplating the party. “I haven’t been to a party yet.”

“Come with me,” Jillian reached the doorway but was still turned to Carrie. “Please,” Jillian whined. 

“Alright, sure,” Carrie stood up from her bed. Walking to the closet, still open from Jillian’s search for her dress, Carrie sifted through her clothing, finding a sweater from the bookstore and throwing it over her clothes, still in her skirt from prior that day and a tank top. 

“That?” Jillian laughed, watching Carrie slip back into her flats. 

“You have someone to look good for, I don’t. And I’m not riding the subway in heels. It’s a Friday night and we’re going downtown. We’ll be standing.”

“We’ll transfer to the N at 42nd, the 1 isn’t going to be too crowded before that.” 

“You’re not getting me to transfer through Times Square on a Friday night. Taking the 1 to South Ferry then another train to Brooklyn, sure. I’m not getting onto the N to go down to NYU, just have Mark meet us in Brooklyn.”

“I don’t have my key with me, can I use yours? I’ll put it on my key ring, that way if I come home before you do.” 

“Sure,” Carrie slipped the key off of the loop, handing it to Jillian.”Don’t make me forget that you have this.”

↯

The train screeched towards the platform, breaks shifting on at the stop. An hour later, Carrie and Jillian had arrived into Williamsburgh, having picked up Mark with them at his station. Mark still had his backpack slung over his shoulder, his pencil behind his ear and slacks on. He’d gone to school directly from work, then directly to the station afterward. On their ride beneath the Hudson Carrie had learned Mark worked part-time as an assistant in the Financial District. He couldn’t live off of his loans, nor would he be able to find a well-paying job fresh out of college, attending drama school. As Mark spoke to Carrie about his hours and his school schedule, alongside how he would travel uptown almost daily to see Jillian, Carrie chewed her gums, ground her teeth and tried to get him to shut up. Carrie worked for Harrison, would be getting money from him soon. She would have a job in line for her after college just for knowing Harrison if he were to win the presidency. Moreover, if Carrie tested for law school, working for Harrison was already a spike on her resume. 

For the first time, Carrie was able to reflect upon herself and notice that she had privilege within her education. She talked Jillian’s ears off complaining about Harrison’s wife, but in reality, she should have been grateful for the opportunity.

But as the train started to halt and open the car doors, Carrie’s mind moved back to Harrison. Jillian took Carrie’s hand in her own and guided her out of the station, up the stairs and to the sidewalks. 

“Is working for Harrison a good idea?” Carrie pulled the ties of her sweatshirt and turned to Jillian. Jillian stopped her conversation she had been having with Mark and furrowed her brows to Carrie. “I mean, so many people would just kill for this job. And he has a wife, shouldn’t a guy be doing this so that she doesn’t get jealous?” 

“Carrie,” Jillian shook Carrie’s shoulders. “Carrie! Do you not realize how great of an opportunity this is?” 

“I know that it is, but-”

“But what? Come on, stop thinking about your professor and enjoy the evening. The apartment’s just around this corner.”

Carrie picked up her pace, having fallen slightly behind from Jillian and Mark. 

Harrison had been so kind today to offer Carrie money for her work, considering that she was only a first-year student. Carrie hardly knew anything about law yet, and Harrison had decided to hire her to be his campaign assistant. Harrison was cold in the classroom, never cracking a smile or a joke, such a serious professor, but with Carrie, he was different, perhaps lukewarm, Carrie remembering how he had laughed at her measly joke about cigarettes. 

Harrison always would smile at Carrie as she walked through his office door, whether it be his school office or at home. She’d persuaded Harrison to let his dog into the office, he had talked to her about his feelings towards his wife. Harrison had even told Carrie that he was unhappy with his marriage. 

Carrie remembered Harrison as being handsome, having spent her first day of school studying how his glasses fit behind his ears. He kept his hair trimmed short, his sideburns never showing. Carrie couldn’t think of a reason that his wife wouldn’t want to be with him or agree with his decision. Yes, deciding to run for president of the United States was rash. Carrie hardly believed the idea either when Jillian had first told her about it, but as soon as Carrie had met Harrison she believed that he could be successful. He had a certain type of charm that led Carrie to follow his every word, to be attentive towards what he was asking of her. 

Carrie’s cheeks burnt hot as he would make her laugh, she’d click her pen on and off by tapping it her skin. Even as Harrison had assigned her extra work on Eastern philosophy she hadn’t disagreed, of course, she’d rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t in annoyance, she had done so playfully. Carrie had taken the textbook from his bookshelf, swallowing as she remembered that his wife would be home soon. Silently she wondered if his wife would wonder why the book was missing, but there was no reason for Carrie to worry about her. 

Carrie and Harrison’s relationship was strictly work-related. He was her teacher and she was his pupil, nothing less and nothing more. Of course, Harrison had divulged more into his personal life than a professor ordinarily would, but she was spending a few hours at his home every other weeknight, it was to be expected that they would develop a deeper bond, that he would talk about things pertaining to his home life, Carrie was a guest in his home. 

Ringing the buzzer, Jillian waited to be called up, tapping her heels of the concrete under the awning. As the trio was buzzed in, Jillian walked forward, Mark’s hand in her right and Carrie’s in her left, guiding the two into the elevator, then up the seventh floor. 

“We’re late,” Mark checked his watch, biting his tongue. “I don’t know if Jennifer is still going to let us in.” 

“Now I know I didn’t travel all the way from Harlem to Williamsburg for it to have all been for nothing,” Carrie laughed, smiling to Jillian, already pissed off. 

Mark checked the time again, then grasped the knocker on the apartment door, banging it once, then twice. “If she doesn’t answer then I’ll take you guys to a bar or something, I’m sorry-”

“You’re late.” A woman with ringlet curls tilted her head, sighing. “I told you, Mark, if you were going to be late then I would’ve started the party later!” She began to smile, then grabbed Carrie’s arm. 

“You must be Jennifer.” Carrie slid her purse onto her shoulder and moved through the crowd of people filling the studio. 

“You must be Carrie,” Jennifer stopped in front of a drink table, taking a ladle and spooning a concoction into a plastic cup. “Jillian and Mark have told me so much about you.” 

“Oh, well isn’t that great.” 

“They’ve had nothing bad to say, they just wish you were around more, you have some sort of internship.” Jennifer handed the drink to Carrie then fixed one for herself. “You’re a freshman, don’t worry about an internship yet. I’m a junior and I didn’t get my first until this past summer.” 

“Well, actually,” Carrie took a sip from the cup gingerly, tasting if it was bitter. Her drink was fine, though extremely alcoholic. “I’ve been working with my professor, on some research for him.” 

“Research? I thought you were in political science.” 

“I am. I lied, I’m not doing _research_ research. I’m doing research for his presidential campaign. I know, it sounds crazy, but you’ve got to give him a chance.” Carrie took another swallow of her drink. “By the way, what’s in this?” 

“My boyfriend made it, I think it’s long island iced tea and blue curacao.” Jennifer took another drink as well. “Yeah, that’s it. But that’s your professor? Harrison Ford, the insane one?”

“Who told you that he was crazy?”

“Jillian did, she said that he’s running for president without his wife’s approval, that she wants to divorce him or something because of it.” 

“She told you that?” Carrie ran her free hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I told her not to say anything. I should’ve known that it would have gone to Mark, then eventually to his friend group. God, there must be a whole circle of kids at NYU who think that some Columbia professor’s having an affair with his student.” Sitting her drink down, Carrie turned away. “I need to go talk to her.” 

“Have you never been to a party before? You’re not going to sit down your drink. Here, if you’re going to walk away at least drink it all then toss it into the recycling. And, no, I haven’t told anyone and I don’t ever plan to. That’s why I dragged you over here in the first place.” Jennifer handed Carrie’s cup back to her, sticking a straw into it. 

“Thanks,” Carrie used her straw to drink the liquor, trying to figure out which type of alcohol she was tasting. “Is this drugged?” 

“No, I promise you it isn’t. It’d be bitter, and I assume you tested already for that.”

“Yeah, I learned that lesson in high school,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “I haven’t gone to a party since my senior year. I used to be, you know, super out there. But then I started applying to colleges and started going… steady with my boyfriend and quit.” 

“You hesitated, that’s not a good sign.” 

“Paul’s just as insufferable as Jillian is.”

“I can’t wait until the day that she and Mark break up, and by the looks of it I can’t wait until you and, Paul, isn’t it, do.” Jennifer turned her head over her shoulder, waiting for someone to hand her a wad of cash. “God, I bet that they broke something. I’ll be right back, hold this for me.” Jennifer gave Carrie her drink, walking away and grabbing onto someone’s shirt, laughing already. 

Carrie sniffed of Jennifer’s drink, fuller than hers was. There was no way to know what sort of concoction that they were drinking was, but it definitely wasn’t Long Island iced tea, more like blue curacao mixed with cheap, store-bought margarita mix and triple sec. Frowning as she took another sip of her own drink, she remembered that she was at a party. She was supposed to be having fun, but Jennifer was no longer there to distract her.

Why was is that Carrie had been stuffed into a dorm with the worst roommate ever? Jillian was never home, and when she was she was with Mark, and she very obviously wanted Carrie to risk her entire life by sleeping with her professor. 

Harrison was an entirely another sort of beast, someone who was supposed to be a mentor to Carrie but couldn’t stop talking about his failed marriage with his wife. He wanted to be president and needed Carrie to help since his wife wouldn’t, he shredded divorce papers because it was too late, Harrison tried so hard to find a way out of his marriage and was pinning it all onto Carrie, and she wouldn’t even dare to say no to him or to tell him off. 

Harrison was cool. He was cooler than Paul, nicer to Carrie than any guy that she had ever been with, but he was her professor. He had to stay as her professor. One day he would be off in Washington D.C. as America’s newfound president. Carrie was a student who didn’t even want to be enrolled in a college, much less one as prestigious as Columbia. There were so many reasons to leave, such as Jillian and the workload, but there was Harrison still there, of course. 

“Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about him,” Carrie whispered, swallowing back the rest of her drink and immediately pouring more into the cup, filling it up to the brim. “He’s my teacher, he’s going to stay that way, I can’t push this any further.” Carrie stopped muttering to herself and took another sip, brushing her hair out of her face and standing on her tiptoes, looking for Jennifer. 

“Hey, where’s Jennifer?” Mark grabbed the back of Carrie’s head, messing with her hair. 

“Fuck off, Jesus Christ, Mark,” Carrie turned around to meet him, eyes wide. “I almost threw my fucking drink on you. Don’t go around scaring people like that.” 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry,” Mark reached over Carrie to ladle more jungle juice into his cup. “I’ve been looking for Jennifer since I got here, she’s the girl you’ve been talking to, dirty blonde, kinky curls…” 

“Yeah, Mark, I know. Listen, I don’t know who she went off with. Some guy came up to her, gave her some money and she followed him. Said he broke something.” 

“Oh, Matthew,” Mark rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his fresh drink. “This’s potent, you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’ve been drinking since the seventh grade, I’m fine. Also, you have to remember that I don’t know anyone here. I’m just some random bitch from Columbia hanging out with the entire population of New York University.” 

“It’s NYU-”

“Yeah, I fucking know that I’m in an Ivy League school, you idiot.”

“Rough night? Is it Jillian?”

“No, Harrison, but Jillian’s been pissing me off as well. She’s your girlfriend and all, and Harrison’s my professor, so I don’t think that I should be saying anything. Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been touchy tonight, it’s probably from this shitty alcohol. If I find Jennifer for you, will you let me talk to her about this? She doesn’t have anyone to run and tell things to.” Carrie took Mark’s hand and started to walk through the crowd, looking for Jennifer but failing, both of them too short to be seen over everyone. “By the way, who is Matthew?”

“He’s her boyfriend. She buys him everything because she’s a trust-fund baby. Her dad was on Broadway, she’s lived here her whole life. I guess he was paying her back. He’s a little clumsy, too, and obnoxious.” 

“Of course she is…” Carrie stopped walking entirely to guzzle down more of her drink. “Who here isn’t? Jillian says that she’s not, but look at the fucking dress she’s wearing, that shit is Chanel.”

“Well, I’m not, alright? I’m from some small town outside of Baltimore. I’ve come from nothing, it’s my third year at this school and I’m working two jobs to cover the costs of it.” Mark let go of Carrie’s hand.“You swear a lot when you’re drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk, just slightly inebriated and very upset. You would be to if you had a shit roommate, no fucking money, only two friends at this party, and your professor wants to fuck you and your life over.” 

“Listen to me, Harrison’s a teacher, I doubt that he sees you as anything more than just a student of his. You’re doing him a huge favor, he’s nice to you because of that. I don’t see from any of what you, or Jillian, have told me that implied he’s only in it for your body,” Mark looked at Carrie, lifting up her chin. “I want to meet up with you, maybe study at the library uptown. I’ve come from nothing too, I’m a coffee boy on Wall Street and work at a pizza joint on 34th. And Jennifer has money, but she’s living in the dorm across from me.”

“Oh God, you’re just trying to get in my pants too.” 

“It’s not like that, I’m just trying to get your attention, you’re drunk. I let go of your hand so that you couldn’t drag me somewhere and I lifted your chin so that you’d listen to me. I want to share my story with you and get to know you. Take a compliment, Jesus.” Mark handed Carrie the rest of his drink as he dug into his pockets. “Take my drink as well. You could use something to calm down.” Mark lit a cigarette. “Have fun talking to Jennifer for me, I wanted to talk to her about her transfer letter, guess you ranting about your professor is more important than her school life. I’ll see you when I see you. Smoke something, take a break.” 

“You too, asshole.” Carrie attempted to flip Mark off, failing to do so as she had a cup in each hand, alongside Jillian’s cradled in her elbow. “Fucking transferring, I have no fucking friends. I should quit swearing, make a good first impression Carrie, oh God, I’m talking to myself.” Carrie spoke under her breath, stumbling over to Jennifer who she had finally found standing in a corner. 

“Someone looks pissed,” Jennifer pulled Carrie close to her. “Pour that out,” she whispered. “You’re making a fool of yourself, you’re drunk.” 

“‘M not,” Carrie handed Jennifer’s drink back to her. “Mark wanted me to tell you about your transfer letter, where are you going?”

“Oh, God, that thing,” Jennifer started to pick at her nails. “Yeah, well, I had applied to the school Mark’s in, but I think it’s too late for me.” \

“He goes to drama school, right?”

“Yeah, and I’m in business school. It’s not fun, at all,” Jennifer bit her lip. “My dad’s in theater, Mark’s probably said that. But he was completely against me heading in that direction, he knew some people at the school, paid my way into the business college. I guess that he thought I’d like it. I’ve been in dance classes since my very first semester, both in and outside of school. I wanted to go into the musical theater program, but it’s far too late, I’ve started on my senior thesis already.” 

“I’m in the same boat, you know I really only applied for political science because I can probably make some money off of it. I didn’t even want to go to college, but I’ve been pressured into good grades and achievements since my dad left us. I’m here on almost a full-ride, so I’d be wasting my life if I did leave. I could transfer out, into English, or something, but I don’t know. Harrison’s really keeping me on my feet though, I enjoy doing the work for him.” Carrie took a gulp of her drink, swallowing it back. “Mark’s been quite the asshole tonight, but so have I, so I can’t blame him.”

“Do you want water? I don’t want you to wake up hungover.” 

“I’m fine, okay?”

“Carrie, you’re drunk, come on, I’ll get you some water, you aren’t thinking clearly.” Jennifer took both of Carrie’s hands, taking the cups out of each of them. She dragged Carrie into a bathroom, turning on the bright fluorescent lighting. 

“Look at yourself,” Jennifer took Carrie’s face in her hands and snapped her to face the mirror. “Look how red your cheeks are, look at your pupils. “No one gets this drunk at their first college party unless they’re stressed or stupid, and you seem pretty smart to me.”

“Listen, Jenn, I’ve just got a lot going on, I’m okay.” Carrie looked away from the mirror, rubbing her temples before Jennfier forced her back. 

“You’re stressed. Look at the bags beneath your eyes,” Jennifer trailed off, turning on the tap. “Drink up, cup your hands.” 

“Aw, fuck,” Carrie cupped her hands, feeling the cold water running off of them, the stream of liquid-smooth, soft as jelly. Taking a gulp, feeling how foreign the water was, Carrie cupped her hands once more, drinking again, then drying her hands on a towel. 

“Keep drinking, you’re not riding the subway back to Harlem drunk. There are too many creepy men at this time of night.”

“It’s hardly midnight,” Carrie sighed, running her hands back beneath the tap. 

“You’re in New York, not the midwest,” Jennifer turned off the tap for Carrie, then sat down on the side of the tub, Carrie following. “What’s wrong?”

“God, I really shouldn’t be telling this to anyone.” 

“Who do I have to tell? Mark? He’s fine,” Jennifer pursed her lips, patting Carrie’s knee. “Tell me.” 

“I have a raging crush on my professor,” Carrie immediately threw her head into her hands. “I haven’t even said that aloud yet.” 

“Harrison? The one you work with after class?”

“Yeah, and the worst thing is, I want to pursue it. His wife is always out of town, plus he wants a divorce. I really, really like him. I have a boyfriend back home, though, and even though he’s awful, I don’t want to cheat on him.” 

“Why do you like Harrison?”

  
“I dunno, he’s just… powerful. He’s running for fucking president. He has this huge loft apartment, two whole floors of a building on the east side. He has this dog, who is pretty cute. And him in general, he’s so weird. He’s cold, but I feel so welcomed by his presence. He’s handsome, always dressing so professionally. He compliments me, a lot. Which, all of this is fine, we’re consenting adults. I’m twenty in October, he’s thirty-five. He’s so well put together, always doing something, always reading and learning or typing. He doesn’t every laugh, except for when he’s around me. I’ve never heard him laugh at anyone else’s jokes. And when he smiles, it’s infectious, a big, loud, toothy smile.” Carrie laughed, cheeks flushing even harder. 

“You’re starting to sound like Jenny, from The L Word.”

“The what?” Carrie smiled, biting her thumb. 

“It’s a television show. There’s this dumb, sultry writer on there, with all of these cheesy out of character descriptions she says. That’s you, but she’s a lesbian.” 

“You’re gay?”

“No, no, I have a boyfriend. I just watch it because I can relate, not because I want to fuck her,” Jennifer cracked her knuckles on the tub. “But, on the other hand, I can totally see you getting hot to Harrison on a presidential debate.”

“Oh, shut up,” Carrie swatted Jennifer’s arm, causing her head to rest against the tub’s wall, sliding down into it. “Is it comfortable down there?” 

“I don’t know. Are you comfortable wanting to fuck your professor?”

“No, I just, want to kiss him, I guess.” 

“You guess?” Jennifer joked, sounding appalled. “Well, the next time that you’re over and his wife is gone, you are going to kiss him.”

“I can’t risk losing this job, plus, he pays me. I can’t sacrifice my dignity over a petty crush.”

“I want updates on the next time you meet,” Jennifer stood up, taking out her phone. Flipping her phone open, she moved to the contacts page. “Add your number, I’ll call you.” 

“Okay,” Carrie took the phone from Jennifer’s hands, typing in her name as ‘That Drunk Girl from the Party.’

“I better get going, I have a boyfriend to take care of.” Jennifer took her phone back, slipping it into her pocket, and leaving the restroom.

Carrie coiled up into the tub, wishing that the alcohol was still prevalent in her system. “I hope I can trust her,” Carrie spoke to herself, standing up and taking a final drink of water from the sink.

“Jillian! Hey!” Carrie wrapped her arms around Jillian’s neck, spotting her right as she walked out of the bathroom door. “I think I’m going home,” Carrie whispered in Jillian’s ear. 

“What?” Jillian shook her shoulders. “It isn’t even one, come on.” 

“No, no, I have a lot to think about, I’m sorry. Jennifer has my number if you need me. And tell Mark I said sorry, and that I told Jennifer about the letter.”

“What are you talking about?” Jillian spoke over the music, gripping onto Carrie. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Carrie removed her hands from Jillian’s body. 

Carrie took a beer from the table, slipping it into her purse as she left. With the lack of having a fake I.D., this was the closest thing to a liquor store that she could get. She walked into the hallway of the apartment, eyeing a couple from the party kissing by the elevator. “Excuse me.” Carrie gently pushed them aside, taking the elevator back to the ground floor.

Arriving to the dorm, Carrie took out her keys, ready to unlock to door and crawl into bed, the time on her phone showing that it was already past three A.M. The second gold key on the ring was to the dorm, and as Carrie maneuvered it into the lock, the lock began to jam. There was only one gold key on the ring. Kicking the door and removing the key, Carrie slid down the wall, knocking her head against it. Jillian still had the key, and she would most likely be shacking up with Mark all night long. 

Carrie removed the bobby pin from her bangs, sliding it into the keyhole, fumbling around with it, and to no avail, found no results. With no more metal on her person, sparing the keys that wouldn’t fit, Carrie retreated back to sitting against the wall, loitering around the freshman hall. 

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to go into your dorm.” A security guard walked into the hallway, pointing towards Carrie with his flashlight. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but my key is with my roommate, and she’s in Brooklyn. I forgot that I gave it to her.’

“You’ll have to spend the night in the lobby, then. It’s open twenty-four hours a day, but be more responsible next time. There’s a couch and a vending machine in the copy room down there, take a nap.” The security guard turned back around, exiting. 

Carrie stood up, inhaling and exhaling, trying to find any dignity that she had left, desperately hoping that she wasn’t resorting to sleeping in public. She slipped off her flats, quietly padding down the stairs in her socks, slipping into the copy room. The bright lighting in the room caused a pang in her forehead, forgetting that she was liable to a hefty hangover, no matter how much water that was in her system. She quickly flipped the copying machine on, then turned off the overhead lights, letting the copying machine’s screen serve as a night light. Not knowing if she had any dignity left, Carrie pulled her hair up, her bun resembling a crow’s nest, and reclined into the couch. 

Carrie’s phone buzzed, signaling twelve missed calls from Mark and a single text from Jillian. 

**_Jillian:_ ** _I have the key. I won’t be home until around noon, Mark and I are staying the night, we found a room. My friend, Stephanie, she can let you in, just ignore her roommate’s weed. Mark is mad as hell at you, I don’t know what you did, but I don’t think you would want to listen to his calls right now. See you tomorrow, sorry._

The text ended with an unreadable emoji, something that Jillian had on her iPhone. Carrie envied that luxury, to have an iPhone over a BlackBerry. It was such a simple thing, but Carrie was so poor. 

Taking the beer from her bag and popping the cap off with her useless gold key, Carrie started to take swigs of it, remembering all of her failures of the night. Mark. Yelling. Drinks. Three drinks. Four. Jillian. Jennifer. Talking about Harrison. Admitting it. Leaving the key. Agreeing to the party. Coming to this school and this city when she was indescribably broke. 

She noticed herself crying, the saltiness of the snot dripping into her drink making her feel even worse. Chugging it, now, ignoring how horrible that it tasted, Carrie whipped her tears on her sweatshirt. “I hate this school, I hate myself, I’m never good enough, for anybody. I can’t read signals, I’m in love with someone who’s taken..” 

“Carrie?” Someone opened the door, holding a stack of papers in his hand a surprised expression on his face. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s late.” 

“What are you doing here?” Carrie choked on her tears, downing another sip of beer as she tried to compose herself for Harrison. 

“My copier ran out of ink, I’ve been working all night,” Harrison tucked the papers into a file beneath his arm then sat the file down. “Are you okay?” Harrison walked over to the couch, kneeling down beside her. 

“I’ve had a rough night,” Carrie sniffled, trying to hide her face in her free hand. “God, you really shouldn’t be seeing me like this. I’d be asleep in my dorm if my shitty fucking roommate didn’t take my key.”

“Woah, just… calm down. Why are you crying? Students sleep here at least once or twice a month, you’re okay. Talk to me,” Harrison took Carrie’s hand away from her face and into his hand, drying a tear in the process. “Is it something that I’ve done.”

“It’s… It’s just- I went to my first party, with my roommate and her boyfriend, and I drank way too much, and I got into a fight with said boyfriend, then I became friends with one of his friends, and I told her a lot of things that I shouldn’t have. I’m in love with somebody else, and I have a fucking boyfriend back home, I can’t be thinking like this.” Carrie removed her hand from Harrison’s grasp, finishing her beer and hiding again. 

“Do you actually love him?” Harrison took the empty bottle and tossed it into the trash, ignoring the clanging sound. He took both of Carrie’s hands in his. 

“No, I don’t, I don’t, not at all, and I fucking hate myself over it. I just wish that I could break up with him, but I can’t, he’s been there for me ever since my dad left us and he offered me financial support, and if I break up with him and need money for school then I won’t get any. ‘M already so far into debt for this semester alone, I’m so poor Harrison, I’m so fucking poor. And if I leave him then that’s one less friend, and he’s my only friend at home, and here I just fucked up two friendships in one night, and it only leaves one friend for me and I only met her tonight.”

“Carrie, you’re drunk, you’re rambling, you’re crying, I can’t understand anything that you’re saying,” Harrison said, picking her up. “I’m going to take you back to my place if that’s okay with you. No one else is home, you can sleep in the guest room.” 

“I can’t do that, I can’t do that to your wife.” 

“She isn’t home, you’re alright. I’m going to carry you out of here, I’m going to call a cab, we’ll go back to my place, I’ll send you on your way home as soon as you wake up. Deal?” Harrison looked down at Carrie, who had been gripping onto him for dear life. 

“Deal,” Carrie smiled, biting her lip. “I’m so sorry that you’re seeing me like this, I hope that this doesn’t compromise our work relationship.”

“No, no, no it doesn’t. I was even more of a mess in college, you’re tame compared to how I was. Let’s get this cab and get you tucked into bed.” 

↯

The blinds of the apartment bedroom were closed, but Carrie still covered her head with the duvet as soon as she awoke. Her head was pounding, all she wanted as a Tylenol and more rest. She turned over, still beneath the covers with eyes closed, and stretched out her limbs. She covered her head with a pillow as well, in an attempt to block out even more sunlight from her vision. 

“Good morning,” Harrison walked towards the bed and sat down on the side of it, removing the covers from Carrie’s head. “Sleep well?”

“I’ve never been this hungover before.” Carrie yawned, rubbing her eyes and closing them once more. “Do you have any Tylenol?” 

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll go grab it for you.” 

“Thanks, Professor,” Carrie rolled over again. 

“Professor? What’s that, some sort of nickname?” Harrison called from the medicine cabinet. 

“No, it’s your name. You’re my professor, _professor_.”

Harrison laughed, slightly, and Carrie managed to force out a smile. She was in Harrison’s guest bedroom, or, his actual bedroom, by the looks of it. The bed was massive, and family photos lined the walls. 

Harrison walked back with two pills and a cup of water. “After you take these, I want you to drink all of this, then go back to sleep.” 

Carrie graciously took the cup and the Tylenol from his hands, thanking him once more before downing them. “Is this your master bedroom?”

“Yeah, I slept in the guest room last night, thought you’d like something more comfortable. The guest room is just a futon,” Harrison smiled, taking Carrie’s empty cup and setting it onto the nightstand. “Do you mind?” Harrison lifted up the covers. “I won’t take up any extra space that you aren’t, I just slept on what felt like a piece of cardboard last night..”

“Of course, it’s your house.” Carrie moved over, resting her head on a new pillow, then stuffing her head beneath it. Harrison crawled underneath the covers, trying not to invade Carrie’s side of the bed. “Do you want me to go to the futon?”

“No, never, you’re alright.” Harrison sighed. “Just go back to sleep, we’ll talk about last night later.” 

“I think I’m going to go ahead and head back,” Carrie stood up, balancing herself on the nightstand. “I’ve got some papers to study, and I’ve got that research for you to finish, plus I need to see my roommate and apologize for everything. Thanks for letting me crash here.” 

“You’re more than welcome. I expect that research to be top-notch, you put it off to go to a party, so I hope you still put a decent amount of time into it.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks again.”

↯

Carrie knocked on the room of her dorm, hearing footsteps approaching it to unlock. Jillian opened the door and shot Carrie an unamused glance. “I’m glad you’re safe.” 

“Thanks, how was Mark? Did you say anything?”

  
“No, I feel like you need to be the one who apologizes.” Jillian walked back to her bed and sat down, sipping water.

“Are you hungover as well?”

“No, but I know you are. That shit was strong, I don’t know how you did it.” Jillian sat her drink down and turned off the overhead light. “I’m going out, I’ll let you sleep. You need to recover.” 

“Hey, I’m sorry for leaving last night, and assuming Mark was trying to make a move on me, and just ditching you guys for Jennifer…,” Carrie trailed off. “I didn’t expect to be feeling that way.” 

Jillian picked up her tote bag, then slowly slipped out the door, not responding to Carrie’s apology to her. 

Carrie reclined into her pillows, throwing her blanket over the top of her. She rubbed her temples, swallowing hard. Harrison had picked her up, quite literally, and let her sleep at his apartment. There was no reason for him to do that, he most certainly didn’t have to. Harrison took her in, and though she barely remembered most of the night, she knew that he’d kept her safe, guided her to the bedroom and left her alone. Her professor was doing more for her than her friends care to do, spare for Jennifer. 

Carrie looked to her phone, seeing a new missed text message from Mark. She picked it up, seeing a new message tempting her to answer, but ultimately sat her phone aside. Turning over, facing the wall, she stretched out her hand to trace swirls onto the paint, feeling the ripples of the hastily painted wall run beneath her fingers. Last night was supposed to be a night to cool off, and it was the exact opposite. In an attempt to desolidify her feelings towards Harrison, she’d only made them stronger. 

Harrison, with his wife, with so much to lose if the university found out, took Carrie home, gave her his bed in the master bedroom, gave her medicine, even crawled into the bed with her shortly before she left. 

Carrie’s phone vibrated from her bag, signaling a new call. She rolled back over, grasping her phone and not bothering to check the caller I.D. before answering. 

“Hello?” Carrie moved her hair from her ear, blocking the speaker. 

“Hey, it’s Jennifer. I just wanted to know if you ever made it home.” 

“God, you’ll never fucking believe it. I forgot that I gave Jillian my key, so I had to sleep in the damn copy room. Then, out of nowhere, Harrison, out of all people, find me drunk and crying in there, then takes me back to his apartment and lets me have the master bedroom. He slept on the damn futon, and when I woke up he got my Tylenol, and then, this is the best part, he asked if he could get in the bed with me, and I agreed, but then I had to leave because of my school work, but oh my God. Just imagine what else would’ve happened.”

“So, did you kiss him?” Jennifer laughed, licking her lips. 

“No, of course, I didn’t. Drunk Carrie doesn’t think about those things, drunk Carrie wants to cry and a damn nap,” Carrie sat up in her bed, tired of hanging off the side and chatting. “Sober Carrie most definitely thinks that she should’ve stayed and seen what would’ve happened, though.” 

“Were you still drunk leaving his house?”

“No, I was pretty hungover, but I could’ve still been. You know how hammered I was, and then I had another beer on top of that after I left.”

“That’s where that one went? I was keeping count of them, thanks for throwing me off. No, but seriously, if he carried you home-”

“He literally carried me home. He picked me up from the couch and _carried_ me to the taxi.”

“Well, he _carried_ you home, then let you sleep in his bedroom, and took care of you this morning. I think that that’s a pretty clear indicator that he doesn’t think of you as just one of his students. That’s not normal, you know that. And I know he can’t get fired over it, but the school would be pissed, and if the word got out, then his marriage, his career, and his presidential run would be completely over. Harrison cares a damn-lot about you. You aren’t just his assistant. I don’t know if he sees you in a romantic way, but he doesn’t think of you as just a friend.” Jennifer spoke quickly into the phone, wanting to convey her point across to Carrie. 

“I don’t know, I don’t see it. I have feelings for him, and I told you that, so I think that you’re just misguided because of what it is that I said to you about he and me before.” Carrie swallowed, lowering her phone. “I’m gonna let you go, okay? I need to think about all of this.”

“Go for it, it’s your man.” 

“He’s not my man, he’s his wife’s, and America’s soon. I can’t pursue this, if anything does end up happening, then it’s going to have to end real quick.” Carrie hung up with that response, clicking her phone back closed and tossing it back into her bag. 

  
  


↯

Carrie slipped her papers back into her folder, stuffing it into her bag as Harrison dismissed the class. She bent down to tie her shoe, then glanced at the clock above the door frame. The class had ended quite early. 

Unlike usual, Harrison didn’t call her over to his desk once she was the last student left in the room, he just let Carrie go, her knowing that their next appointment was on Thursday. It had been three days since Carrie had been inside of Harrison’s apartment, and she was still overthinking the entire ordeal. 

She and Mark had talked things over, Mark having not understood until then and apologizing for being rude. Jillian wasn’t talking to her, but that was alright. Jennifer and Carrie had planned to meet up on Friday for lunch, that way Carrie could tell Jennifer more about Harrison the next time that she had seen him. 

Mark had left his bookbag at Carrie and Jillian’s dorm, so not only was Carrie using it for class, she was planning to bring it downtown to him afterward. The subway was three blocks from campus, nestled between Columbia and City College. Carrie needed to take the 1 train downtown then transfer to the N, then find her way to Mark’s stop. 

Looking down at her phone, about to cross the street away from the campus, she felt a hand tap her shoulder. 

“Are you free tonight?” 

Carrie instinctually moved her hand up to swat the man away but laughed as she came to realize that the man behind her was Harrison. “Yes, I’m free.” Carrie stopped walking. “I have to go down to NYU for a little bit, I’ve got to give my friend his bag, but then I’ll be right over.” 

“Your boyfriend?” Harrison smiled.

“No, no, my roommate’s boyfriend. His name’s Mark, he goes there. My boyfriends off fucking around at our state school, Mark’s getting an education.”

“It’s… I don’t know, three now, right? Once you're done, be at my place by six. That’ll give you plenty of time. I have to fax something that states I accept anonymous donations, which should be a no brainer, of course, I’ll accept them. I’m going off on a tangent, anyway, I’ll just see you then.” Harrison waved goodbye to Carrie as he walked down the street towards a cab that he had, presumably, already called. 

Carrie smiled, looking down again, knowing that that sort of form didn’t exist, that Harrison only wanted an excuse to see her again. She had to remind herself that Harrison had a wife, that he wasn’t interested in Carrie, that maybe, just maybe, a paper stating that you accept anonymous donors did exist. She walked quickly to her station, glancing up temporarily to the buildings, attempting to distract herself from the thought of Harrison making an excuse just for her tonight.

↯

“Hey, Mark, is Jennifer nearby?” Carrie burst into Mark’s room, not even knocking to see if it was locked. “I need to talk to her, ASAP.” 

“Yeah, she’s in the other dorm across the hall.” Mark got up from his bed, opening the door. “Jen? Carrie’s here.” 

Carrie stayed waiting at the main entrance to Mark’s dorm. She waited to hear Jennifer call to Mark but instead heard footsteps pedaling down a hall. 

“I was in the damn bathroom, this better be important,” Jennifer bit her lip, still holding a straight iron in her hair, the unplugged cord following behind her. “Is it Harrison?” 

Carrie side-eyed Mark, and make a gesture to Jennifer. 

“Mark won’t say anything, what happened?” 

“After class, y’know, once I was walking _off of the campus_ , Harrison caught up to me and asked if I could come over tonight. Long story short, I’m going over at six. He told me it was to help him fax some sort of form that states he can ‘accept anonymous donations,’ which… doesn’t even exist, to my knowledge. What’d’you think? Is he trying to get in my pants?”

“I know it’s not my place, but, don’t you have a boyfriend?” Mark scratched his head, looking up from a book in his bed. 

“Shut up,” Jennifer whacked Mark with the end of her cord. “Tell me everything that happens, I’ll have my phone on me. If you need anyone to get you out of there or if you need a ride back to your dorm, hit me up.” 

“I just think that I’ve been getting my hopes up too much. He’s married, nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

“I don’t think that you should pursue someone with a wife, especially not if he’s running for office-” Mark sat down his book to speak, stopping abruptly as Jennifer tossed the cord of her straight iron onto him again. “I mean, just do so at your own risk.” 

“I know it’s dumb, but why not?” Jennifer rolled her eyes at Mark. 

“Both you and Jillian keep pushing for this. Yeah, I’m going to try and see what happens, but I don’t want to put anything in jeopardy.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try, maybe they’re right,” Mark dog-eared his book, tossing it off of the bed. “I’m not for this, you know that, but I don’t want to be opposed if no one else is.” 

“So, you’re all expecting me to fuck my professor, right? Okay, cool,” Carrie sat Mark’s book bag onto the floor, making sure it was zipped. “I’ll be heading off, then. You’ll know how to reach me. I’ve got no classes tomorrow, we can hang out if you want.” 

“See ya’,” Jennifer walked back into the bathroom, plugging back in her straight iron. 

“You really want this to happen, don’t you?” Mark walked after Jennifer, taking her comb and pulling it through his hair, tugging out a knot. “I don’t know what’s with girls and drama and relationships.”

“Mark, you’ve got a girlfriend.” Jennifer grabbed her comb back from Mark, running it through a kinky curl, tangling her comb as she did so. “Carrie’s nineteen, she’s in college, she’s away from home, probably from the middle of nowhere, backwoods, America. Let her go out and have fun.”

“She’s not going out and having fun, she’s going to her professor’s house. I only told her to go do it because I didn’t want her to be mad at me or anything.” 

“If you’ve got a problem with something that a friend does, you should talk to them about it.” 

“It isn’t that simple, Jenn,” Mark bit his thumbnail, gritting his teeth. 

↯

Papers rustled between Carrie’s fingertips, her filing through the pages and checking off boxes on a separate sheet. There was a sheet that Harrison had assigned for her to go over, crossing off which papers and forms that he had filled out. Carrie double-checked the paper, seeing that each box had been checked off. There was nowhere stating that there was to be a form to allow anonymous donors to Harrison’s campaign. 

Carrie had been at the apartment for almost half an hour, and they had only made minimal conversation. Harrison was busy tapping away at his keyboard, brushing most of his work aside and giving Carrie busy work to do. 

“Did I ruin everything?” Carrie stood up from a chair she had been sat in, walking over to Harrison’s desk. 

“Nope,” Harrison didn’t look up from his keyboard, still hitting the keys and composing a document. 

“You won’t even look at me,” Carrie sat down her stack of papers on Harrison’s desk, accidentally slapping them down too hard. “I’m supposed to be your perfect assistant and instead you found me drunk and crying on a couch. Tell me that you’re disappointed.” 

“Carrie, I was in college too, you know. I went to a state school, I had more wild nights in my first month than you ever will. It’s fine. It isn’t ideal, sure, and you could’ve gotten busted for that, no matter what the security guard said or what I reassured you with, but it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to me? Did I fill out a paper wrong? Do you no longer need an assistant?” 

“I think that I compromised our professional relationship a long time ago, and I’ve just started to realize that I have,” Harrison spun around in his office chair, beginning to face Carrie. “I should have had you do these things outside of school, as in, in your dorm, or at my school office. I should have never let you go back to my house, should’ve never picked you up a few nights ago. I would never, never do anything inappropriate with you, but I think that you’ve gotten the wrong impression from me.” Harrison turned back for a moment, reaching to turn his computer’s monitor off. “I don’t want you to think that I view you in a way that would jeopardize our work together.” 

“What makes you feel like any of that happened?” Carrie raised her hand to her cheek, her hand feeling colder than her face, swallowing hard. 

“You smile a lot around me, you try to look nice, I can tell, You change your demeanor, you speak so differently to me in the office than you do to your acquaintances in my classroom. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” 

Carrie furrowed her brows, blinking twice, trying to think of a way to explain this all to Harrison. Jennifer was the only person who knew how Carrie felt towards Harrison, and Carrie still couldn’t fully admit to herself that she was attracted to him. 

“If you made me feel uncomfortable, I could have left weeks ago. I’m in this because I enjoy working with you, I look nice and act more professional than I do in the classroom because I want to impress you, as in, you know, make a good impression as a worker.” Carrie ran her nails up her forearm, her fingertips shaking. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good.” 

“You’re shaking, I- Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, I should just let you go, I should let you leave.” 

“I don’t know how to phrase this, or how to put into words at all what I’m thinking right now, but I want you to know that I feel comfortable around you. I want to be around you, all the time, maybe. I just, I can’t say this out loud, how I feel.” Carrie rolled her eyes back, sighing and pushing a raspberry from her lips. Harrison stood up from his chair, walking towards her. 

“Hey, I didn’t want to accuse you of anything, are you okay?” Harrison grabbed both of Carrie’s shoulders, feeling her hairs perk up. 

Carrie looked down, to her own hands, grasped in front of her, knuckles white and nails digging into her skin. “I don’t know how to say this, alright?” Carrie looked back to Harrison, her eyes tracing the wrinkle that was permanent between his brows, looking down to the top of his nose, watching his lips part, about to speak to her. 

Carrie lifted her brows, pursing in her cheeks, chewing her cheeks as well,. She felt her lips rub together, felt the scratchy sensation of a fever blister catching below her front teeth. Without thinking, she instinctively raised her own arms up to touch Harrison’s back, her fingertips trailing the tweed of his suit jacket. Harrison’s eyes twitched, a singular click as he parted his lips again. Carrie raised up her feet, her heels far from the ground, feeling Harrison’s lips brush her own, becoming so close to him that as their lips touched she could smell his cologne, becoming so close that she could feel the stubble of his chin scratch against hers, wanting to move in closer, to swallow him whole, to be able to tell Jennifer and Jillian and Mark that she had done it, that she’d finally got her man, that this kiss was enough. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Carrie pulled away, her heels firmly hitting the ground, arms falling to her side, her shoulders shifting back heard enough that Harrison lost his grip. “It’s not okay, I’m the unprofessional one here, I’ve been quiet about how I feel about you, and now I’ve done this and you’ve got a wife and I-” 

Harrison grabbed her arms again, pushing her as close to him as he could, Carrie wanted to take a break to let out the breath she had been holding as she had rambled, but again she felt her and Harrison kiss, this time his bottom lip-locking beneath her top, sparing any awkwardness or an accidental French kiss. Carrie roped her arms around his neck, struggling to relax into his arms but eventually doing so. Carrie hesitated in kissing him back, wondering if this was only for her, but she felt that Harrison had smiled, his teeth brushing against her lips before he started again. 

Carrie guided her arms back down to Harrison’s shoulders, her body fawning into his, even more, fingers gripping into the muscles of his shoulder blades. 

“Is your wife home tonight?” Carrie laughed, pushing away from Harrison. 

“What do you think?” 

“I didn’t think she was, there aren’t any anonymous donors form anyways,” Carrie smiled herself. “My roommate’s bringing her boyfriend over tonight, can I just stay with you?” 

Carrie cocked a brow, hoping that she hadn’t mentioned anything about Jillian prior to this that day, knowing that Mark wasn’t coming over at all. 

“Yeah, and you don’t have to take the futon, either.” 

↯

Carrie stared at her reflection in the mirror, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, brushing the hair to the front, then to the back, then the front again. Harrison was in the shower, just a door away, but Carrie felt like he was in a different room of the apartment entirely. She at least wanted to imagine that he was far from her, to hide her nerves and her frantically wanting to look presentable. She’d stolen one of his wife’s camisoles, tugging on a pair of gym shorts she kept in her purse. Her bangs were growing out but still couldn’t fit into the ponytail she had styled. Carrie splashed water into her bangs, trying to adhere them flat to her crown, the hairs poking right back to where they sat to no avail.

The scent of Harrison’s body-wash moved between the doors, reminding Carrie that he was still there as she rinsed her mouth with some mouth-wash she had found beneath his sink. She began to snicker, remembering the work she had abandoned back in the office. Harrison had composed an email or two, and Carrie had only filled out her checklist before they moved on from work to kissing.

Carrie cupped water from the faucet into her hands, remembering Jennifer's party where Jennifer wanted for her to get sobered up. Carrie hadn’t yet texted Jennifer, hoping that Jennifer wasn’t worried about her. The mirror began to fog as Carrie gave up on getting ready for bed and Carrie walked into the master bedroom.

What Carrie had failed to notice while ridiculously hungover was how large that the bedroom actually was. There was a white couch beneath the window, the bed a California king, a fur rug beneath it. The closet on the far end of the room looked to be one that you could walk into, a spotlight right in front of it. Carrie climbed beneath the covers, feeling the duvet’s heavy fabric compress on top of her. 

“You’re already tired?’ Harrison emerged from the bathroom, his hair still dripping, flannel pajama shorts on and nothing else. 

“You put me to work,” Carrie laughed. “I’m joking, but it's been a long week. A really long week.” 

“Well, you need some relief from that.” 

“Stop it,” Carrie smiled, turning on the lamp on her bedside table. “You’re flirting with me and it’s midnight.” 

Harrison walked to the opposite side of the bed, pulling the duvet up and slipping beneath it. Carrie turned over to face him, her hand beneath her resting on one of the pillows. “I borrowed a shirt, I hope you don't mind.” 

“No, not at all, it looks good.” 

“Thanks.” Carrie tightened one of the straps, moving in on Harrison and pressing her hand against his pillow for a change. “I’m not _that_ tired yet.” 

Carrie looped her free arm around Harrison, shifting up her knees to move closer to him, kissing him again and not feeling the hesitation that she felt earlier that night. Harrison brushed her bangs from the side of her face, still kissing her as he did so. Carrie felt his hand snap the strap that she had just tightened, the elastic hitting back on her skin before he slipped it down. 

“You don’t know how long that I’ve been waiting for this,” Carrie sighed, gripping her arm onto Harrison’s shoulder to climb on top of him. 

↯

There wasn’t love there, at least not enough love to be seen by the naked eye. There was a glint of true feeling wedged deep inside of Harrison, tucked away behind a thin smile and strong arms, arms that were strong in the sense of muscle and tone, but not strong enough to support the infatuation that Carrie shared with him. To him, their involvement was commensalism, but to her he was a parasite, soaking into her bones and weighing her down with incertitude. She wanted him to love her to his full potential, wanted to call him her’s and vice versa, but the ring bestowed onto his left ring finger conveyed his belonging to another woman, someone she had never seen or heard about, but suspected to be prettier and smarter than she was, more professional and bland. Harrison wouldn’t love someone as different as her.

Carrie thought as if she was too extroverted for his taste. He was a decade older, he knew more about the world, while she was a student of his. Her voice was powerful, she let herself be loud and intransigent, but with him, she matched his slower way of speech, fewer sentences, and shorter words. There were many times, though, that she could get him going on a topic, and he could talk for an hour, long words strung together with crisp defiance. Around him, stating her thoughts were removed from her autopilot, jokes she would make stowed away in her peripheral.

Staring up to the ceiling, the room completely dark, Carrie let her thoughts run wild, not expecting anything to feel different than the day before. She closed her eyes again, watching the kaleidoscope appearing on her eyelids, silently scratching her palm. 

Harrison had been knocked out beside her all night, fast asleep and lightly snoring, his head almost face down in the pillow. Carrie had tossed and turned, slowly, not trying to wake up Harrison, but failing to fall asleep herself. 

Fumbling her hand around on the floor in search of her purse that she had sat beside the bed, Carrie fished out her phone, rolling over and covering her head with the duvet, sliding her phone open. 

She rubbed her eyes, the brightness of her phone an unwelcome surprise at three in the morning. 

**_Jennifer, it’s Carrie._ **

**_I slept with Harrison. What the fuck do I do now?_ **

**_Hello?_ **

**_If you’re too tired for this, at least call Mark for me._ **

Carrie sighed, giving up and placing her phone face down on the nightstand, closing her eyes in an attempt to sleep again. As he let her head rest into the pillow, she heard her phone vibrate against the wood, praying to God that Harrison didn’t wake up. 

**_I’m about to get on the train, I’m heading back from Brooklyn. Mark’s on third shift right now. Once I’m back in the dorm I can text you, but you’ll be asleep. Just come over when you wake up, I’ll be in the dorm or at the park._ **

Carrie turned off her phone completely, tossing it into the bedside drawer. She felt as Murphy pounced onto the bed, padding his paws onto the comforter and curling up to Carrie. “Harrison’s gonna be mad at you.” She whispered as she laughed, petting Murphy’s fur. “He can’t be that mad, though, I think he’s had a pretty great day.” 

As Carrie woke up, she patted around herself in the bed, seeing if Harrison was still there. Touching his arm, not feeling if he was awake or not, she rolled back over to grab her phone, turning it back on and waiting for Jennifer’s messages to come through. 

“Who called you?” 

Carrie opened her phone and pushed herself up on the pillow, turning back over to face Harrison.

“Mm, I don’t know yet. I’ve got a shitty flip phone, it’ll take a minute to power back up.” Carrie moved the top of her phone back and forth, waiting for the logo to show. Closing it and placing it beside her pillow, she smiled. “Am I still going to work for you? Or did this change all of that?”

“I don’t see why not, unless you don’t want to work for me. I’m not going to compromise our professional relationship. I expect that we can talk business and get our work done when we need to, and if there’s time left then we can act upon our other feelings.” Harrison scraped the dirt out from beneath his fingernails. “If you think that us viewing each other romantically ruins our abilities to work together then I’m fine with that, it’s your call.” 

“Okay, then I’ll be back over Tuesday for campaign work.” Carrie reached for her phone again, flipping it open and beginning to thumb through her calls. “I’ve got 36 missed messages. Makes sense, it’s twelve noon, I suppose that my roommate’s wondering where the hell I’m at.” 

“You know about my life, about my wife and my aspirations, my job, my home, that I’m not from New York, but I don’t know anything about you. Are you friends with your roommate? Did you know her from home? Where’re you from?”

“My roommate’s name is Jillian, and she’s such a jackass. I’m not really friends with her, no, but her boyfriend is one of my best friends in the world. His name is Mark, and he goes to Tisch down at NYU. I didn’t know Jillian from home, I’m from a small town in Illinois where people grow up to grow meth and corn instead of going to college. I was the first student from my school to actually even apply to Columbia, and I think that I only got in because they needed student’s with a low income bracket. My dad left my brother and I when we were ten, which left my mom to move into a two bedroom home to take care of us. I had money during my childhood, my dad worked in finances in Chicago, then when he left it was like we hadn’t ever had money at all. My brother’s a few years younger than me and he took it really hard. He slept in the bedroom opposite of my mom, and then I stayed in the attic above the garage. We eventually made it into a full fledged bedroom for me and I lived in it as if it were an apartment. I never liked being in the house and socializing with my mom and brother, and I know I should have, but I just wanted to go out and be somebody. I couldn’t do much of anything, though. I had a beat up car that would hardly start, I was in school from six to four, getting there early for debate and leaving late from tutoring. I wasn’t a great student, but I tried my fucking best. I was so busy studying and trying to find anything that could deem me worthy of a scholarship from a major college that I didn't have any friends in high school. I had a boyfriend in high school starting in freshman year, he’s intolerable. We’re still together now even, but I try not to talk to him unless it’s necessary. His name’s Paul and he’s cool and all, but he’s rude and he gets upset easy. I think he cheated on me once or twice, which doesn’t make me feel bad about my relationship with you at all.” 

“Given the circumstances, you’ve turned out well,” Harrison took hold of Carrie’s hands and kissed her knuckles. “If you need help with any money then let me know.” 

“I can’t take you up on that offer, I’ve got to do this work for myself. I don’t want the president getting accused of bribery.”

“Bribery, treason, an abuse of power, conspiracy, I’d do any of it for you.” Harrison smirked, rubbing Carrie’s knuckles with his thumbs.

“Oh, really? So you’ll pay a country for a favor, pledge yourself to Russia, tell the McDonald’s cashier that, since you’re the president, you’re going to arrest her if she has to pay for that Big Mac, and then you’re going to try and take down the Illuminati. I see how it is. Maybe I’d rather help the bio professor down the hall with his paperwork than help you with yours.” 

“I wouldn’t do those things unless you asked me to. Besides, maybe I’ll just arrest them over Sprite.”

“Why’d you pick me to help you out with this? I’m sure that you’ve got better students.”

“I teach three courses in the law school, and then I just teach your class at the undergrad college. I think that it matters who teaches the 101 classes, and I know that I would’ve wanted a professor who actually cared about me and believed in me during that time in my life. I do have other great students, I’ve got this guy who comes by for office hours each day just to ask me how I’m doing, I’ve got a girl in my Advanced Constitutional Law class who had already published articles in academic journals, but they’re already into the grind of college, they know what they’re doing, and quite frankly the students in my Economics class don’t. And out of all of them, I saw the most potential in you on the first day. I chose you, I got a feel for what you were capable of when I asked you if you wanted to do this. I think that it’s an added bonus that the two of us can not only be colleagues but also friends, maybe something larger down the line.”

“When does your wife get back?”

“Tonight.. I’m giving a speech on the lawn to announce my run for candidacy on Monday, she wants to stand offstage and watch. Other than that she’d probably still be on business. She’s a salesperson for company wide insurance. Makes a killing by just flying from here to San Francisco each week to talk to bosses.” Harrison peeled back to duvet and started to get up from the bed. “I might as well do that instead of try and become the president.”

“Where’re you going?

“I’ve got a meeting at two with the department heads, I thought that I might as well get prepared for it.”

“Ah, fun,” Carrie laughed and opened her messages.

**Jennifer: Ok I’m home -- Was it what you expected?**

**J: Was his wife home? Did you plan for it? How big was his stack of paperwork? LOL.**

**J: Mark’s sent you about a thousand messages, he couldn’t reach you and thought you’d been knocked out on the sidewalk or something. Just scroll through them, I told him that you’re fine.**

Carrie laughed at Jennifer’s messages, quickly typing up a reply, only to be interrupted by another notification. 

**Paul: I’ve booked a hotel for tonight in New York. I’m flying into LaGuardia at one this afternoon. Thought that I’d surprise you, it’s been awhile.**

“Fuck,” Carrie closed her phone and stood up from the bed, collecting her bag from beside the table and lacing back on her shoes. “Harrison, do you have a car by any chance?” 

“Do I have a what? I live in the upper west side of Manhattan, I do not own a car.”

“Shit, shit, oh my God,” Carrie fumbled around looking for the key to her dorm room and her credit cards, having forgotten where she had haphazardly placed things the night before. “Do you know where my clothes are? I’m in pajama pants and sneakers without a top on. I can’t even find a fucking bra and I have to be at the airport in an hour.”

“I think they’re by the laundry basket, I’ve just walked into the closet, I can’t look right now.” 

Carrie ground her teeth, stooping down to check beside the laundry basket, finding her clothing to no avail until she looked inside of it. “You put a wet towel on top of this, now my t-shirt’s soaked. I’m borrowing one of yours from the closet, open up, I’ve seen you indecent.”

“Why do you have to go to the airport? Whoever you’re meeting there hates you, LaGuardia’s a shithole.” Harrison shook his head as he opened a drawer. “Do you want my clothes or my wife’s?”

“Anything, really.” Carrie took the shirt that Harrison handed her, a plain brown sweater from the top of the drawer. “Paul texted me saying that he’s flying in to surprise me. Which, that’s just fucking fantastic.” 

“You need a bra? Or jeans?” 

“I think I’m fine, I don’t have to dress to impress him.” Carrie tugged on the sweater, pushing off of where it caught on her ponytail. “I’m really not looking forward to going to the airport. I don’t have the money for a cab, and no, you’re not going to give me any money.”

“Take the B from 103rd down to Rockefeller, switch to the Queens bound M, then transfer to the LaGuardia shuttle at Jackson Heights. It’ll take you about an hour, so I’d leave as soon as I could.”

“Well, wish me luck. I’ll be there to rally for you Monday.” Carrie slung her backpack over her shoulder, forgetting about whatever she had left, it being toothpaste or a bra, and at that point she would be fine with leaving her phone if it meant she could arrive on time to get the weekend over with. Walking downstairs into the main floor of Harrison’s loft, she stole a banana from the kitchen, peeling it from the bottom to the top. She broke off the part where the seed would occur and threw it on the ground to Murphy. 

She slipped her phone out from her pocket, dialing Jennifer’s number and trying not to scream. 

“Hello?”

“I’m going to the airport to pick up Paul. Out of anyone in the entire universe that I’m going to have to deal with this weekend, it’s him. Tell Mark that I won’t be around any, so if you guys go to any more parties in Brooklyn with disgusting alcohol, fill me in on what I’m missing. And tell him to relay the message to Jillian, I don’t want her to know that I’ve slept with Harrison, that’ll be all she ever talks to me about.” 

“Learn how to say no, okay? It’s his decision to have flown all the way here, what if you were busy?” Jennifer brushed her fingers through her hair, waving off Mark as he opened the door to her room. “Break up with him tonight then come and chill at my place, my roommate is home for the weekend.” 

“I can’t break up with him, it isn’t that easy.” Carrie stopped walking and leaned against the side of a brownstone building. 

“How long is he going to be in town? Just tonight?”

“Just tonight.” 

“Mark’s busy tomorrow. He told me that he needs to talk to you. I don’t know what’s up with that.” 

“I’ll talk to him Monday, then. Harrison’s got his announcement for candidacy on the lawn at Columbia sometime Monday, so if you two want to come here and see it you can, I’m sure he’ll love to see Jillian. I need to catch the train, I’ll talk to you later.” 

↯

Carrie stepped off of the shuttle bus two minutes before the plane landed, $5.50 less on her Metrocard and no more dignity. She assumed that Paul had flown Delta, as it was the only airline that she knew of, so she stood outside of the gate, taking down her hair and attempting to fix it, only to throw it back into a ponytail seconds later. 

Rolling up the sleeves to Harrison’s sweater, Carrie checked her phone for any new messages, hoping that whatever Mark needed to say to her had arrived via SMS. She could hear the planes touching down and taking off, and the cabs arriving back and forth. Perhaps Paul coming to visit was her karma for spending the night with Harrison, or she just had horrible luck. 

She was tempted to check the time, but remained standing in place. The sliding doors of the terminal opened, only a woman with a suitcase the size of herself rolling out. Carrie began to walk into the airport doors, forgoing the thoughts that she may not be allowed inside without a ticket. She watched her feet as she moved forward, knowing that she was more likely to trip, but it was easier to watch other people’s shoes to avoid their toes colliding, something spilling onto Harrison’s sweater. 

“Hi,” Carrie laughed as she eventually saw Paul, gingerly wrapping herself around his shoulders. “You’re here.” 

“I didn’t think that I’d ever talk to you, you never call me anymore.” Paul broke the hug himself and raised his brows.  
  
“I just rode the subway for an hour to get to his airport,” Carrie adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Don’t guilt trip me.” 

“How far’s your apartment from here?” 

“I don’t have an apartment, I share a dorm fifty or so minutes away.” Carrie turned around and let Paul follow her out from the airport, back to where the taxis ushered in. “I don’t have a dime on me, you’re going to have to pay for it. I suppose you’re not too keen on the concept of the subway.” 

“Our hotel room is near the school you go to, if you want to go by there and pick anything up.”

“I’ll let you meet my roommate if you want to, but I’ve got pajamas in my bookbag, pulled an all nighter at a friend’s apartment.” Carrie smiled, adjusting her bag one more time, hoping that the tank top didn’t smell like cologne. 

“I didn’t know you’d met anyone here,” Paul took Carrie’s hand in his own. “Girl or a guy?”

  
“My two best friend’s names are Mark and Jennifer. Mark is dating my roommate, so, no, you don’t have to worry about me seeing anyone else.”

↯

Jillian sat on the edge of her bed, filing her nails as she tuned out Mark talking to her. The dorm room has its television on, set to _Friends_ but muted. Mark had come over after his shift ended to see if Carrie had come back from Harrison’s, but instead wound up laying around with his girlfriend. Jillian was oblivious to Carrie spending the night with Harrison, which Mark believed to be the best option, Carrie visibly sick of talking about her personal life with Jillian. 

Someone knocked on the door, and before Jillian could walk over to open it she heard the familiar jingling of Carrie’s set of keys. 

“How was last night?” Mark asked as Carrie walked through the doorway. 

“It was really good, went down to see Jennifer and I studied for my civics midterm.”

“Since when were you taking a civics class?” Jillian looked up from her nails, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“Shut the fuck up, would you?” Carrie rolled her eyes, starting to whisper. “Paul decided to fly up and see me, he’s outside of the door. So I’d appreciate it if you would be quiet and act like I didn’t fuck around with Harrison twelve hours ago.”

“Fucking finally,” Jillian looked back down to her nails. “It took you long enough.” 

“You’re taking that better than I expected,” Carrie opened up her drawers, emptying her bag into the top one, grabbing clothes that weren’t hers from Harrrison’s. 

“This is where you’re staying?” Paul stuck his head into the doorway, waving to Jillian and Mark. “I thought it’d be larger.”

“Me too, I’m paying so much money to be here.” Jillian stood up to open the door completely, shaking Paul’s hand. “How are you liking New York so far?”

“It’s cold, and grey. But Carrie’s here, so that makes it better.”

“Don’t flatter me too much,” Carrie looked over her shoulder and smirked. She was changing out of her sweater into one of her hoodies, then grabbing jeans from the closet. “It’s nice to have you here, too.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Mark spoke beneath his breath, switching through the channels. “How long are you here for?”

“Just tonight, I’m leaving tomorrow at noon.” 

“We’re staying just a few blocks away, I should be back here tomorrow afternoon,” Carrie slung her bag back over her shoulder and slipped on another pair of shoes. “Mark, is it okay if I talk to you then?”

“I’ll probably be at work. I’m on 34th and 6th, come see me.” 

Carrie pinched the collar of Paul’s jacket and tugged him away from Jillian, Jillian shooting him a smile and a wave as he left. Pressing the button beside the elevators, Carrie counted the seconds it took for the bell to ding, signaling the doors to slide open. 

She looked to Paul beside her and rest her head onto his shoulder, wrapping their hands together. “When was the last time you went home?” 

“Two weekends ago. They’re building a new high school, one with an actual gym this time. I guess that in a few years from now that they won’t be playing basketball on the concrete.” 

“What else’s changed? Is your family alright?” 

“They’ve put in a third stoplight,” Paul laughed. “Which, I think is a pretty big improvement. A gym and a stoplight, we’re really moving up in the world. No, but my family is fine. I went by your house and talked to your brother when I was home, he’s got a dog now.”

“Of course we get a dog when I move out,” Carrie walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, Paul pressing the button that closes the doors. “Look, I don’t think I should be saying this here, but it’s private and I just want you to know that I don’t know how much longer that this is going to work out between us. I care about you, of course, and I love you and you’ve helped me through so much, but, I think we’re growing apart. You’re in Illinois, I’m in New York, you want to be a music teacher at the high school back home, I want to be a family lawyer. We were good together, but now I need to be with someone else, and that person is myself.” 

“Who else is going to put up with you? I’m sure that none of your friends know about your home life, about all the shit you went through, with me, with your dad, your brother, your mom. You haven’t opened up to these people, and when you do open up they’re gonna leave. Your brother tried to kill himself, your dad ran away when you were in fifth grade, I love your mom but she’s not fit to parent you yet, she’s still growing into being a single mom. And I’ve left you before, but I came back. No one has ever come back for you other than me.” 

“You don’t know that,” Carrie walked out of the elevator as it opened. “No one knows fucking anything until it happens! I would appreciate it if you reassured me that I was capable of love rather than say you’re the only man who will ever love me.” 

“Stop, you’re causing a scene,” Paul grabbed Carrie’s shoulder to stop her from walking any further. 

“There are three people in this lobby: you, me, and a security guard.” Carrie turned around to continue walking and break from Paul’s grip. “All that I wanted to do was to tell you I think we need to be apart, and you tell me that I’ll never find anyone like you again. I hope that I don’t.” 

“You said all of this in the matter of traveling two floors, don’t you think it’s rude to break up with someone in an elevator?”

“I wasn’t breaking up with you - I don’t want for that to happen. I wanted to start an honest conversation with you, because between school and life we don’t talk anymore. I won’t see you again until Thanksgiving, then Christmas.” Carrie stopped and turned around, facing Paul and taking a deep breath. “Just talk to me, don’t try to escalate this into some sort of guilt trip.”

“Alright, that’s feasible. Let’s go get dinner, go to the hotel, and talk it all out.” 

↯

Carrie rolled her socks off, stuffing them into her shoes. She placed her shoes beneath the nightstand, then flopped onto the couch opposite of the bed. “I forgot what it was like to have fun,” Carrie pulled her knees to her chest, hanging her head back to meet the armrest. “I’ve been so caught up with school and work that I forgot about spending time with the people I love.” 

She twisted the bracelet on her wrist, unraveling the braid only to tie it back. “I wish you didn’t live so far away, it would be nice to see you often.” 

“Move back home, I see our families each weekend. We all miss you, your dog, your brother, my parents.” Paul unzipped his jacket. “You wouldn’t have to worry about loans, or all the stuck up people here. Mark’s a doozy.”

“What’d he say to you?” Carrie rolled over and propped herself up by her elbow. 

“He’s just, I don’t know. I think he has some feelings for you.”

“I highly doubt that, and even if he did it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m with you, and I don’t have plans to see anyone else on the side.” Carrie smiled, cracking a knuckle. “If I did then I would tell you, and if I haven’t brought up anything big by now then I don’t think I ever will.”

She stood up, picking up her bag to shower and change, the alarm clock showing that it was nearing midnight, she and Paul going out to dinner having turned into a borough wide tour. Walking into the bathroom, she rubbed her fingertips together, having the sudden urge to call someone - Mark, Jennifer, Harrison. Typing out a message, no sender selected, she closed her phone and threw it onto the sink, having little to care for if the screen had cracked or not. Turning on the shower’s tap, scorching the water’s temperature, Carrie took off her hoodie. She placed it on top of her phone, now slid into the sink, and rest her elbows onto the counter. She placed her chin into her hands, fingertips interlaced and grit her teeth, wanting to scream at herself. 

Carrie took her index finger and wiped away the condensation forming on the mirror to look at herself. Her hair was a mess from the wind that day, her torso was exposed, makeup smudged from the night before, having had only water to try and erase it with. Paul had never seen her anything less than Carrie’s perception of presentable, had never seen her without her hair brushed, never seen her with mascara on her cheeks. He had never seen her with nothing on. 

There was no regret in Harrison having been the first person that she had ever had sex with. Carrie would bat an eye at sexual encounters, they themselves meaning nothing, only what had led up to them. She cared that Harrison was the only person she had ever let see herself. 

Jillian had seen Carrie hungover and stumbling into their dorm, smelling like cheap beer and having tear stained cheeks, but Carrie’s hair was still kept neat, her clothing was her own, she could pretend to be perfectly alright. Jennifer had heard Carrie over the phone panicking over Harrison, over a project, over losing her left shoe, but hadn’t seen her is disarray. Jennifer had seen her drunk, she’d seen her planning to go to Harrison’s and for once see what trouble that she could get into, but Carrie was Carrie, not the person on the outside.

Carrie kept herself composed as much as she could for Paul, out of the pure necessity of having to have him provide for her in high school, to always be there as someone just to have. They had argued, she had cried, but she looked sane and was able to brush off all of her emotions by the end of things. 

For Harrison, though, she had let herself be vulnerable. She had played her cards just right to impress him, then for the first time let her guard down. She made stupid jokes and laughed at them, didn’t hide any of her anxiety to be around him. She let Harrison rescue her when she had no where to go, she let herself confess her feelings for him. Harrison was the only person that she had ever kissed first, the first person who she had ever been infatuated towards. It felt natural, it felt okay. 

Carrie checked that the bathroom door was locked, that Paul couldn’t open it and see her the way she was. The way that Harrison saw her as herself was something that Carrie didn’t want Paul to invade upon. 

↯

“Okay, big reveal. How’d it go?” Jennifer sat cross legged on Carrie’s bed, Mark and Jillian on the bed opposite. “Was it a reunion for the ages?”

“I want to fucking sleep.” Carrie threw her bag onto the floor and slammed the door to her dorm shut. 

“It could not have been that awful,” Mark dogeared the page of the book he was reading, the same one that he had been reading three days before. “You got to see your boyfriend for the first time in three months.”

“It’s awful when you’re stuck between two people. I had fun with Paul last night, you know we went to dinner and walked around the park and midtown. I had a genuinely great time, but before that happened I told him that we should break up. He told me no one would ever love me again and made me compromise into going to dinner. So the events beforehand were horrible. I went to take a shower and somehow got distracted by the thought of being with Harrison instead. I feel so much more me with Harrison, more vulnerable and capable. And I realized that I don’t want Paul to see me the way that Harrison does, and he most definitely doesn’t because Harrison wouldn’t guilt me into dating him.” Carrie sat down onto her bed beside Mark, and slowly pushed him aside, leaving him to stand up and for Carrie to relax into the bed. 

“Name one thing you would do with Harrison that you wouldn’t with Paul.”

“I have a few things I can list off of the top of my head. How about enjoy myself? Or love someone? And I didn’t tell any of you before, but Harrison’s the first and only person that I have ever slept with, so I think that’s a big factor.”

“You’re shitting me.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. 

“No, I’m telling the truth. Harrison is the only person that I’ve ever had sex with. I’m twenty years old and I’ve lived in a small town my entire life where Paul was the only person I had to choose from. And if I’m not imagining things, we all know why I wouldn’t sleep with him.” Carrie hugged her body close to the wall, Jennifer’s body taking up most of the bed. Carrie pulled the covers overtop of herself, fluffing up the pillows. “Also, Mark, you’re supposed to be at work right now, and I know that my boy drama is not a great enough reason to call out.”

“I had to talk to Jill. You walked right in beforehand. Jennifer’s here because our dorms are starting to empty. Thanksgiving is next week. You guy’s midterms are this week, ours were last. People are leaving out early.”

“What’s your econ midterm going to be? Sucking dick?” Jillian spoke up for the first time.

“I would’ve been offended by that if I wasn’t so out of it. At this rate, it probably will be.” Carrie pulled down her ponytail. “I’d prefer that over writing a paper.”

“I’ve got to go down and see Matthew tomorrow, he left his laptop with me.” Jennifer rest her head on the headboard. “It’s not fair that all of the people you guys are seeing live in Manhattan, I’ve got to go down to Brooklyn.”

“Paul came from Illinois.”

“You asked him to break up with you and you’re having an affair with your professor, sit this one out.” Jennifer stood up from the bed and grabbed the book that Mark was reading just to see the summary. “I’m going to go ahead and leave, you need to sleep and work everything out. Mark’s got work, Jillian’s got to study.”

“Alright, see you later.” Carrie reached to turn off her lamp as Mark and Jennifer walked out of the door. “You guys are coming to Harrison’s announcement on the lawn tomorrow, his official bid for candidacy?” 

“We’ll be there, sure thing.” 

↯

Mark wed through the sea of students hoarding the lawn, looking for Carrie and finding her to no avail. Harrison had given his speech an hour before Mark’s arrival, leaving Mark alone in his odds of finding Carrie, Jennifer having to have met up with her as the event had started. 

Jillian had skipped out, citing that her homework was too important. She refused to meet Mark at the doors to the dorm, and without an ID Mark was denied entrance. He continued to wade through the crowd, sifting through the students and attempting to make his way to the steps of the library to see out over the lawn. 

He felt his phone vibrate inside of his pocket and began to stall as he walked, pulling himself to a lamp post and slipping his phone out. 

**Jennifer: Carrie and I are at a brownstone on 113th, Alpha Theta whatever the fuck. Come join us.**

Mark rolled his eyes and placed his phone back into his pocket, turning around and finding his way back to the university’s gates. 

“You’ve got fraternities?” Mark stood with his hands in his pockets, eyeing Carrie talking to Jennifer on the sidewalk. 

“Why wouldn’t they?” Jennifer laughed and opened her arms towards Mark. “I’m so happy that you’re finally here.”

“There’s a table of shirts inside, some rich guy bought them up at the rally. I helped design the backs of them.” Carrie removed the cup she was drinking out of from her lips, turning around and moving her hair. The front of the shirt stated **_FORD ‘08_ ** with the back having the slogan _For the people_. 

“Could you think of anything less generic?” Mark laughed, walking over to Carrie and patting her shoulder. “I’m kidding. They’re cool.”

Carrie walked back inside with Mark behind her, ushering him into the foyer of the house. She walked over to a discarded pool table covered in stacks of t-shirts and plucked one out for Mark, pulling it over his head as a surprise. 

“I’m really proud of you for helping with this,” Mark finished putting the shirt on over his own. “It’s a huge deal, you’ve worked for months.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Carrie handed Mark a red party cup, already filled. “The kids here love him, and with our network of alumni I think he’s got a shot to skyrocket.”

“Since when did you become so eloquent?”

  
“When you learned what eloquent meant, jackass.” Carrie saw Jennifer entering through the doorway and took her hand, leading her upstairs. “Come with us, this is where the party’s starting.”

“Nah, I think I’m fine down here, I’ll make some friends.” Mark waved them away.

“Mark, you have to do it.” Jennifer mouthed to Mark before she turned to walk up the stairs. “You can’t wait forever!”

Mark refilled his cup, downing half of it out of nervousness, and ran up the stairs, paying no mind to the guard rail. He turned the corner, looking once again for Carrie and Jennifer, already long gone into the party. “I have to talk to you,” Mark grabbed Carrie’s shoulder as he spotted her. 

“We’re doing shots now, then we’re watching the highlights on CNN.”

“It’s important, just give me a few minutes, ten minutes tops.” Mark took Carrie’s hands in his own, tucking his cup between his forearm and his body. 

“Alright, let’s go to a bedroom.” Carrie kept one hand in Mark’s as she knocked on the door opposite of them, hearing no reply and barging in. 

Carrie sat down onto the bed, watching Mark lock the door. 

“I have a crush on you.” 

“A what?” Carrie started laughing, burying her head into a pillow.

“A crush, on you. You know, I like you, I think you’re pretty and smart and funny.” Mark rest his back against the wall. 

“Mark, I can’t do this. You know I can’t. You’re one of my best friends, you’re dating Jillian. I have a boyfriend back at home. I’m cheating on him with Harrison. I love you, a lot, but as a friend. I trust you, as a friend.” Carrie patted beside herself on the bed. “I don’t want you to be disappointed, but I can’t see you as anything more than a brother. And don’t pull that friendzoning bullshit.” 

Mark sat down beside Carrie on the bed, interlacing his fingers and biting his lip. “I know that, don’t think that I don’t. I know that this would never work out, I know that you aren’t interested in me. But I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks now, and as a friend and as someone you trust, I can’t keep that secret from you. It wouldn’t be fair for you to not be putting the same energy into this as I am, and I’m going to fix this and try to get over you.”

“Stop, don’t do this. Don’t deny yourself feelings because I don’t want to be in a relationship with you.” Carrie grabbed Mark’s hands, trying to hold them awkwardly as he laced them together. “If you want to be with me, feel that. Let yourself get angry, let yourself be upset, let yourself fall in love or try to pursue this. I trust you enough to know that you wouldn’t try to come onto me. I’ve spent, what, the past three months pining after Harrison. Do you know how great it fucking felt to tell him how I feel? And that was before my feelings were confirmed as mutual, I felt so fucking good to be truthful and to be myself. You said you were proud of me for this campaign, well I’m proud of you too.” 

“Are you bullshitting me?” Mark laughed, scrunching up his nose.

“I’m fishing for answers to tell you, but I’m not lying. But I would be lying if I said that this didn’t make me feel a bit uncomfortable. You and Jennifer are my best friends, and I don’t exactly know how to feel about one of you wanting to take that to the next level.” 

“I didn’t think that I’d be telling you this at some Alpha Mu Theta chapter, I could have made this a lot better, if that would have impressed you more or made you feel safe.”

“I don’t feel unsafe, I told you before that I know you won’t try anything with me.” Carrie smiled, wrapping her arms around Mark’s shoulders. “And I admire your pluck. I just don’t know how to handle this on top of everything else. I don’t want for you to feel guilty.” 

“I’m going to go back to work, I took off just to come see this and to see you. I’m sorry I got here late, some idiot was walking between the train cars, whole ordeal.” Mark stood up, taking his cup from where he had sat it on a dresser. “I’ll see you when you’re ready to see me. Go get drunk, enjoy the party, you deserve a break. I know that I need one. See you later, I hope.” 

Carrie watched as Mark left from the bedroom door, unlocking it then slamming it back. Carrie took the pillow that she had held before and raised it to her mouth, screaming into it as loud as she possibly could, yelling until she ran out of air. She found her cups on the bedside table, downing all of it in one go, chugging vodka and feeling her throat begin to burn. She pressed her tongue to her teeth, keeping down bile. 

“I suppose it went horribly,” Jennifer walked in, shutting the door and cracking open a beer to pour into a spare cup. “Mark left so fast that I could hardly make him out.”

“It went fine, I just want Thanksgiving to come so I can do fuckall and get my life in order. I have to go home, break up with Paul, try to not feel guilty about Mark, and get Harrison’s campaign in order for the debates next fall.”

“Breaking hearts, aren’t you?”

“Paul doesn’t count, I’ve already made up my mind about that. You and Mark are my best and only friends, I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“You don’t have to do anything. He knew that he was going to get rejected, the day that he told me he had a crush on you was the night that you slept with Harrison. If anyone thinks that they stand a chance against him then they’re delusional.”

“I don’t want to be with Harrison for power,” Carrie grit her teeth. “I want to be with him because I’m in love.”

“You’re… in love?” Jennifer laughed, brushing her hair from her face. “You’re not, you can’t be.” 

“He’s the first man that I’ve ever had a serious relationship with. He saw something in me that no one else has, he gave me a chance to work for him. He’s always treated me with respect, and he doesn’t let our romantic relationship affect the work that we do together.” Carrie rest her head in her palms. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’ve never been with a man who cared about my feelings, who treated me like I’m an individual. And I know that it isn’t ideal, he’s fourteen years older than I am, he’s in a position of power. I haven’t seen him try to overtake me, though. He’s just a normal guy, and that’s what I’ve been looking for.” 

↯

Carrie opened the filing cabinet in Harrison’s office, taking a deep breath before diving into the endless sea of papers. Midterms began tomorrow and Harrison had a major deadline the next night. He had enlisted Carrie in filling out all of his paperwork for him, working for three nights straight after classes, doing nothing together other than stopping for a drink. Harrison was scheduled to premiere in Washington during Thanksgiving to give his first true rally and to talk to the populus, his speech on the lawn oriented around press instead of the country. 

There were papers on ethics, on who could interview who, what it was that Harrison was planning to wear, the capacity of the park that his stage would be placed in. Carrie was in charge of all of it, ticking off boxes, writing x’s in blanks, asking Harrison for his signature and helping him write testimonies. 

“We need to hire another person, or a team in a month or so from now. You took off too quickly for only me to help.” Carrie sat down onto Harrison’s desk, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand as she tossed him a stack of papers she had signed. 

“This is hell, we aren’t going to finish this. I’m going to have to forfeit my presentation, my campaign’ll be over before it even starts.”

“It will be if you keep looking down on this.” Carrie took the glass from Harrison’s coaster and poured out it’s content into the trash can. “You’re going to be an alcoholic before 2 AM if you keep going how you’re going. Stop doing this for ten minutes. Just sit there.”

“We can’t take a break, you know that just as well as I do. You’re in such a rhythm with signing off on these and filing them out that if you stopped it’d take an hour to get back at this pace.” 

“Sure, sure it would.” Carrie hopped down from Harrison’s desk and walked to his chair. She began to roll her palms into his shoulders, resting her chin upon his crown. 

“You aren’t going to persuade me to quit,” Harrison smiled, spinning around and facing Carrie. “I’ve got to keep going.”

“Like I said, sure you do.” Carrie placed her hands onto Harrison’s lap, rolling her eyes. 

“I suppose that we could take a break, some time to ignore all the paperwork.” Harrison ran his hands on Carrie’s waistline, untucking her sweatshirt. 

“You’re funny,” Carrie sat on his knees and took off her sweatshirt herself untying the strings and pushing it beneath Harrison’s desk. “We’ve got five more documents to go through, we have time.” 

“Don’t think that I planned on this happening,” Harrison pulled Carrie’s body closer to his, his hand stretching out across her spine. “I don’t want to take advantage of this.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you were going to,” Carrie kissed Harrison, moving her fingers through his hair, ruining any attempt that he had of styling it. “I trust you.”

Harrison felt of the hem of his shirt, beginning to toss it off and ignore the papers he had thrown it haphazardly upon. He began to sit up, tempted to move out of the office with Carrie, a room too small and a chair too curved. 

“What time is it?”

“God, I don’t know. Seven? Eight? I’ve been over here for twenty four hours at this point, it’s all blending together.” Carrie wrapped her arms around Harrison’s shoulders, craning her head into his neck. As she did so, she caught eye of her watch, furrowing her brows and trying to reset the time with her fingertips.

“What?” Harrison shifted Carrie off of himself, watching her moving her wrist. 

“It’s almost twelve. I have a midterm in the morning, I’ve got to go back to my room, we have to fax this all in.” Carrie found her sweatshirt again from beneath the desk, pulling it over her head and retying the ties, pulling up her hair and grabbing a pen from the floor. “We can’t do anything right now, I’ve got to write shit out, I have to sign things, I’ve got to send in this stack of pages, I need to go to bed.” 

“I can take care of it, head out. I’ll see you Wednesday, you’ve been here since the bid.” Harrison took the pen from Carrie’s hands. “And we’ll continue then, office hours.”

“This?”

“No, only one thing is due at midnight.” 

Carrie felt her cheeks get hot, hiding her face in her hands. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” She laughed, grabbing her bag and waving away. She bit her bottom lip, still surprised at what Harrison had said, leaving the apartment and walking into the elevator, retying her sweatshirt’s strings, letting out a laugh as the elevator doors slid to a close. 

↯

Jillian took a dress off of one of her hangers, tossing it to Carrie and asking her to hold it up in the mirror. “You’re not wearing something drab home for Thanksgiving.” Jillian threw another dress at Carrie, waiting to see Carrie hold it up and to roll her eyes. 

Carrie instead placed another sweater into her suitcase, alongside a pair of basic jeans, ignoring Jillian’s fervent pleas to wear something nice. She put Jillian’s dresses back onto hangers and hung them onto her side of the closet, picking up a pair of flats and stowing them into her luggage. 

“Well, someone isn’t being very talkative.” 

“I have to tell Paul that I’m cheating on him. You wouldn’t be excited either.” Carrie moved into the bathroom, emptying her drawer into a plastic bag for her carry-on. 

“How do you think you did on your midterm? It took forever for you to get back,” Jillian took one of her dresses back out from the closet and put it into her own suitcase. 

“I think it went well, I stayed after for Harrison’s office hours, didn’t do too much talking about the exam though.”

“Carrie!” Jillian shrieked, chuckling as she hid her eyes. 

“And this is why I have to tell my boyfriend that I’m seeing someone else.” Carrie zipped her suitcase, rolling it up to rest at the door. “I’m going to head out, I’ll text you when I arrive home.”

As the Amtrack pulled into Stanford, Illinois, Carrie made a point to gaze out from the window, seeing if she recognized anyone from high school. There was hardly anyone to miss from home. She found her carry-on beneath the seat in front of her, taking it over her shoulder and standing up, the only passenger to step off. 

Her bags were waiting at the front, an assistant shoving them into her hands, muttering for her to have a nice day. Carrie wrapped her coat tighter around herself as she stepped onto the platform, the midwest colder than she had remembered. 

She lived minutes away, the train tracks so close were another reason as to why the house was so affordable. She’d been living in a dorm room for three months and it seemed larger than her entire home. The train and school and Harrison and Jennifer had become her home, too familiar to her to accept that she would spend the weekend in her childhood bedroom. 

Carrie knocked on the front door, tracing her fingernail inside of the cracked doorbell. She looked away, noticing that the driveway was empty and began to let herself in, taking the key from her bag and unlocking the door. The home hadn’t changed, still just as small. She walked to the garage, climbing the stairs into her bedroom and sitting her bags beneath her desk. 

Her bed was still unmade, the comforter having fallen to the floor just as it had on the day she left. Carrie turned on the radio on her desk, listening to the fuzzy quality of a station miles away. She stared at all of the awards pinned to her wall, amateur debate awards and certificates of achievement from middle school soccer. Photos of her and Paul were taped between them, and at the bottom was a photo of she and her family. 

Carrie began to take them down, one by one, smoothing out her awards and putting them in her desk drawer, taking the ones of her and Paul into an envelope to toss, and unframing her family portrait, unsure of what to do with it. She had been away for months without contact, and was finding it hard to miss them. 

A message from Jennifer appeared on her phone screen, and instead of answering she simply turned off her phone completely. Carrie pulled her comforter back onto her bed, curling up beneath of it and rolling up the shades on her window, watching the snow fall onto the grass, a sight that she wouldn’t see back in New York. Home felt so far away, even as she sank into her own bed. Her mother and brother hadn’t called while she was gone and Paul was only a distraction. Her family was in New York: Jennifer, Mark, Harrison, and even Jillian at that point. Carrie knew that she had let Mark down too easy, but she didn’t want to pick a fight. She knew that Mark would go to bat for her, and she needed that. 

↯

“Good morning.” Paul opened the door to his home as Carrie walked in, brushing his greeting aside. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Carrie sat down onto his couch, sitting cross legged and waiting for Paul’s reply. 

“You can’t say that, you’ve just come home. I know it’s stressful, midterms and all. You’re not thinking straight.”

“You’re right, I am stressed. It’s because I’m seeing someone else.” Carrie scraped the dirt from underneath her nails, gritting her teeth in surprise that she was so straightforward. 

“Sure,” Paul laughed sitting down beside her. “Thanksgiving is in an hour, you should be back at your place, I’d be seeing you then anyways. Tell me why you’re actually here.”

“On the first day of classes, I met someone else. And I didn’t act upon anything until a week or so ago. When you came to visit I knew what decision that I needed to make, and I know that being without you is better for the both of us.” 

“He’s going to leave, you’re not going to get far. It’ll be over soon and you’ll come back to square one. I’m not concerned because I know you aren’t serious.” 

“I am, though. I’m completely serious. And I know that this isn’t going to work out, he’s older than I am, but let me experience love for the first time. If you truly cared about me, you would want me to go away.” Carrie smirked, trying not to set anything off. 

“Did you never love me?” Paul took Carrie’s hands from her lap, forcing her to untangle her fingers. 

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” Carrie swallowed, closing her eyes. “I didn’t, alright. I didn’t love you, I relied upon you for everything in my life, as my source of happiness, money, protection. You were there for me and my family when no one else was. There’s only 600 people in this shitty town, who else did I have? Now I’m able to support myself, albeit with loans, but I have a roof over my head that isn’t my family’s. I don’t have to rely on you to help fix my car because I no longer need one. I don’t need any protection, I’ve learned to stick up for myself. I don’t need any love from you because I never loved you in the first place. And I’m falling in love for the very first time and it’s with someone else.” 

“You told me that you weren’t seeing anyone when I came to see you. How long were you with him?”

“I had sex with him the night before. I wore his sweater to the airport. That was when it started.” Carrie picked at the side of her thumb. “It wasn’t Mark, in case you’re still jealous.”

“I’d be laughing if I wasn’t so surprised.”

“How mad are you right now?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, so I’m staying silent.” 

“It’s alright, I’d hate me too.” Carrie began to stand up to leave.

“Yeah, I do hate you for doing that. You lied to me, you went out on a date with me and stayed in my hotel room. You came to my house an hour before you had dinner to tell me that you were seeing somebody. I have every right to be pissed off at you. Carrie, what the fuck?”

“I can’t even say that I’m sorry, because I’m not. And I know I’m a horrible person, but at least I’m happy.” 

“You can leave.” Paul looked over to the door, Carrie shuffling back down into her seat. “I said that you can leave. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Carrie got up to leave from the door, stopping as she heard Paul stand up from the couch. 

“I’m not going to your fucking Thanksgiving. There’s nothing about you that I have to be thankful for.”

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual.”

↯

“What a prick,” Jennifer hung her head off of her bed, dropping her book onto the floor. “I’ll admit, I’d be mad too, though.” 

Carrie rolled her eyes, changing the television channel. She ran her fingers against the buttons, trying to find anything other than an infomercial. Checking her phone, she sighed as she saw that the time was four in the morning, shifting her head up from her pillow as she struggled to stay awake. 

Jennifer started to read again, highlighting a page. She pressed her forehead between the spine, smacking her lips. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know, I thought that if I tried hard enough I’d transfer the information into my brain.” Jennifer rolled over, face up to the ceiling, holding up her book at varying lengths, taking her reading glasses on and off. 

“We got back from break three days ago, stop studying.” Carrie changed the channel once again, turning on the subtitles and turning the volume off to help Jennifer concentrate. 

“Jillian’s gone still so I want to hang out with you. I’ve also got exams again in a week. Your exams are always later than ours are.” Jennifer turned the page, groaning and widening her eyes. “I have to study for Christmas, you and Harrison might as well put a stocking on the door.”

Carrie turned the television to the guide, watching the channels move up from the bottom as her vision blurred. “I’m so tired, this weekend was shit.” She yawned and rolled over in the bed, finding an extra blanket and wrapping herself inside of it. 

“You were honest, and that’s all that truly matters.” Jennifer stuck a note card into her book to use as a bookmark. “Now go and be honest with Mark.”

“He’s my best friend, I’m not going to let him down hard.” Carrie eventually found _Friends_ , remembering how Jillian had told her to watch it. 

She continued to rub her eyes, waiting for Jennifer to give up and fall asleep. Jennifer read on, highlighting and creating note cards, only stopping to give her eyes a rest. “When do you see Harrison again?”

“I have his class on Tuesdays and Thursday, so I guess I’m seeing him again this afternoon.” Carrie searched through the tote bag beside her bed, taking out a folder to see what work she and Harrison had left to do before the new year began. She sifted through the pages, finding only three more documents, pursing her lips and placing the folder back down. “If I miss his class by you having me stay up I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m about to go to sleep anyways,” Jennifer laughed, finally closing her book and stuffing it into her book bag, zipping it closed and tossing it beside the door. “Are you planning on spending the night with Harrison again?” 

“I don’t know,” Carrie placed her head into her pillow, running her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “I don’t want to get too attached.”

“Mark is coming by in the morning to get breakfast with me. If you want to join us I’ll wake you up.” Jennifer pulled back Jillian’s bed covers. “Or not, I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Right now I’m focusing on school and Harrison’s campaign, I’ll talk to him during the break. We’ve got two weeks left of this hell.” Carrie put her phone onto the charger, slipping it beside her bed and turning off the television. 

“Let me know what happens tomorrow,” Jennifer turned off the lamp. “I’ll be gone before you’re awake.” 

↯

Harrison played with the cuff of his button up as Carrie walked into his office, pushing down his tie clip to smooth out the velvet, chewing on his gums. Carrie sat down her bags, immediately taking out their papers, passing them to him to sign. Raising his hand forward to grasp his pen, he looked up to Carrie to see her smiling, waiting for him to speak. 

“We’re moving out in January,” Harrison didn’t look up again, pressing his pen to the paper and looping his signature. “You can help me pack when you’re back from break, if you want.” 

“You’re what?” Carrie laughed, taking down a book from Harrison’s bookcase, dusting off the jacket and glancing at the index, seeing if it could help with any papers they were going through. 

“I told you about this months ago, how after I got started that I would move down to D.C., a strategic location to get members of the house and senate to endorse me,” Harrison placed the papers he had signed into his desk drawer. “I really wish that it were you instead of my wife who was going on the road with me.”

“Yeah, I do too.” Carrie stopped reading, placing the book back where it came from. “I’d forgotten about that, I didn’t think that I’d be saying bye until you had won. It’s crazy, you know, we can’t ever really be together. You’re married, you have a career, you’re running for president. And I’m nothing compared to that.” 

“You’re twenty, you can’t have what I have. And that’s okay.” Harrison played with his tie clip once again. “You’re supposed to be a college student, I’m putting a heavy burden on you by having you be my assistant.”

“Are we ever going to talk about us?” Carrie sat down on Harrison’s desk, dangling her feet down beside his chair. “What am I to you? I’m more than just your student or your assistant.”

“I don’t know. I think about you all the time, and I know that we can’t go anywhere with this. You deserve better than someone who can’t be with you, someone who is moving, someone with a wife.” 

“I do. You’re not lying, you aren’t wrong.” Carrie tried to smile, running her index nail under her thumb. “But I can’t get any closure from you unless I know if you really care about me or not.” 

“The day that I met you, I knew that you were resilient. I wanted you to work for me, I didn’t want to develop a relationship any deeper than what I needed.”

“Which means what?”

“I can’t tell you that I, don’t take this literal, love you or not, because I don’t know. I didn’t go into this semester wanting to have an affair with my student, I came in to teach and work.”

“Then I guess you’re happy to be leaving. You won’t have to put up with my pestering anymore.” Carrie turned away from Harrison, taking another book from his bookshelf. She tilted her head low to the ground, inhaling and waiting for Harrison to say something back, knowing that he wasn’t going to satisfy her with a reply. 

“No, it’s not that. Don’t think that-”

“What else do we have to do today? Anymore finishing touches?” Carrie spun back around, taking a pencil from behind her ear and finding a slip of paper on Harrison’s desk. “Did you get your forms submitted for that speech you’re giving?”

“Carrie,” Harrison watched as Carrie refused to glance up to him. Carrie thumbed through the filing cabinets and took inventory of what was there, closing her eyes when she was turn to see him. “I didn’t mean that, you know I’m here, if you need anything.”

“I don’t want to just be someone you fuck, someone that you take for granted. I’m doing a damn good job for you, I’m working harder than I’ve worked in my entire life, I’m trying to make you into this country’s president.” Carrie tore the piece of paper in half that she was writing on, crumbling it into her palms and throwing it into the can. 

“I’ve offered to pay you for doing this, I’m lenient as hell on you in class, I know that you don’t pay attention to any of the lectures I teach. You told me that you’re poor, about your life, and about your family. Does it look like I’m the type of person to just exploit you?” Harrison walked to where Carrie stood, taking her wrist and waiting for her to face him again. 

“I broke up with my boyfriend to see you. I don’t have any financial support from home anymore, that was it. I’m sacrificing seeing my friends downtown to spend evenings with you writing. I want you to care about me because I’m giving away my college life for this.”

“I was advised to meet with professionals to do this. I’m telling my wife every weekend to keep working instead of coming home. I could be further than I am right now, I could be with the person that I’m married to. Does that show that I care enough?” 

Carrie rubbed the back of her neck, rolling her eyes. She took Harrison’s hand away from her wrist and latched onto him, looking back to him again. She refused to answer Harrison’s question, but wrapped her arms around his back and drew herself closer to him. “Fine, I’ll let it slide.” 

“Will you, though?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Carrie stood on her toes to kiss Harrison, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him tighter. 

“You just don’t want me to leave, do you?” Harrison held her hips with his fingertips. “We have another week until the semester ends, then you’re going to be back to help me pack afterwards. There’s still plenty of time for us to see each other.”

“But, it isn’t enough.” Carrie tipped her feet back down again to rest her head onto Harrison’s chest. “I don’t want to do any work today, I just want to see you. I’ll be too busy to see you again until you leave.” 

“I want to spend time with you too,” Harrison bowed his head onto Carrie’s. 

“But you’re not going to tell me if you love me.”

“Carrie,” Harrison pressed his hand beneath Carrie’s sweater. 

“It’s okay, I only need this.” Carrie pulled herself back up to knock Harrison’s head out of the way and to kiss him again, relaxing back and sitting herself onto his desk, lifting up her sweater further than Harrison had already moved it. 

“I’ll miss this most of all,” Harrison placed his hands beneath Carrie’s bra straps to pull her closer towards him, kissing her collarbones. 

“Stop teasing, then,” Carrie laughed. “Let’s get started.” 

She watched as he looked down to her, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. Carrie wanted to move him across the loft, to take him into his bedroom, to laugh as he pulled the straps of her bra away, to kiss her forehead and ruin her hair. She wanted to feel the satin of his sheets against her bare skin, the curves of Harrison’s muscles pressing into her body, smiling and talking and fucking and being one. Carrie wanted to restock the shelves in Harrison’s office that had already been emptied, wanted to breakdown the boxes and drop them to the sidewalks and to let him live in Manhattan for a while longer. 

“We have to get some work done, at least,” Harrison gently grabbed Carrie’s shoulders to move her off of him. “If we do anything we can do it quick.” 

↯

Carrie gripped the top strap of her luggage as she walked into her home, rolling her eyes at the empty Christmas tree. Jillian had repeatedly bragged about the Tiffany ornaments on her parents’ tree, Mark had cut down his own with his father, and Jennifer was halfway across the country, vacationing to a ski resort with her mother. Carrie took the tie off of her bag, wrapping it around one of the plastic branches, staring down to the carpet below the green fir, any presents were stowed somewhere else.

She felt as the family dog brushed against her pant leg, forgetting about his existence between now and Thanksgiving. Carrie pat his head, not remembering his name, and continued into the garage to go back to her bedroom.

The walls of her room were barren, all of the decorations once there having been brought back to her dorm. She opened up her purse and pulled out a photo of her, Mark, and Jennifer, taken at the party they had met at. She hadn’t remembered ever having had the photo taken, but nevertheless she appreciated it. Harrison had given her a campaign poster a few days back, Carrie unfolding it and smoothing out the creases before pinning it to her wall. 

She began to feel sick to her stomach, remembering that Paul lived across the street and that she would be spending three weeks away from her newfound home. Carrie unpacked her luggage, folding up her clothing and tossing them into her empty drawers, every article of clothing that she had owned now with her in college. Mark texted her, Carrie knowing as she heard her phone ring with his special chime. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, but Carrie knew that Mark was making an effort.

Carrie felt bad for ignoring him, for brushing him aside. She had Harrison to worry about, she had school, but she didn’t want to lose her best friend over unreciprocated feelings. 

Harrison left in 22 days; Carrie had been counting. 

She refused to pack anything yet, ignoring the fact that Harrison was sleeping on a futon while his bed was disassembled in the floor, his clothing strewn out from the closet into varying boxes. Carrie had poked fun at him in class before break, Harrison having worn a yellow tie with a white blazer, nothing else clean or able to be found. 

Carrie knew that Harrison had to leave. Soon, there would be nothing left to show of their relationship other than her lingering love for him. Harrison would be five hours away, hardly relaxing in a rental home in the outskirts of DC, touching Maryland. He would be touring the country, spending days upon days in the swing states: California, Texas, Florida, perhaps even Pennsylvania for good measure. She would be in college still, juggling school work with Jennifer and Mark, hopefully moved into a dorm in the coming year without Jillian. 

She pondered going downstairs when her mother arrived to help cook for Christmas dinner, giving up on the thought as she wasn’t hungry. Carrie took her water bottle from her purse, downing half of it and placing it onto the floor. 

As Carrie watched her brother pull into the driveway, somehow making it in her old car that hardly ran, she propped up her pillows behind her, taking in a deep breath and thinking about herself. With Harrison’s departure and the stress that school had weighed upon her, she hadn’t felt herself the past few weeks, hadn’t eaten and slept more than she had all semester, wanting to take time for herself but feeling that her new patterns were bound to be her downfall. 

Christmas was two days away, her family’s annual ‘Christmas Adam’ and Christmas Eve parties approaching, one tonight, the other the next. Carrie remained unprepared just as she had every year, waiting in line for turkey and sitting alone in a corner, avoiding her rich family members and talking to another black sheep in the family.

She eventually tugged on a grey sweater, woven and nicer than the rest she owned, pulled out from the clearance bin at Abercrombie & Fitch in her sophomore year of high school. The sweater had fit nicely before, but began to tighten around her hips, another sign that Carrie was leaving her home life behind. Her jeans fit as they always had, snug at her waist and flaring out at her ankles. The boots buried into her luggage turned out to be Jillian’s, leading Carrie to smile as she realized that they were authentic snake skin. Breaking her trance as she put on her clothing for the night, Carrie heard her mother arrive home, knowing that she was her ride. 

Carrie’s aunt wrapped her arms around her tightly as she opened the door of the home, Carrie squirming and waiting to get away. She told her warm wishes before she sat down at the empty dining room table, tapping her form against the wood and waiting for more family members to file in, wanting to see a familiar face to cling onto, knowing that most of her cousins were off at college still, avoiding the small town that they were once forced to reside in. 

After called to say the Christmas prayers and to put out the plates for the adults, Carrie filed into the line for food, feeling the rough edges of the fibers on her plate, watching as her family mixed and mingled with each other. 

“One of Carrie’s professors is running for president,” Carrie’s uncle was the first to sit down, ignoring his plate and talking about what he had read on the news. “Harrison Ford, you know that one.” 

“He’s got no chance of winning, we’re on a good run with the Republican party. What’s his background other than law?”

“I think he’ll do alright. If he plays his cards right then he’ll win, I’ve discussed his policies with him during office hours, and he’s pretty charismatic.” Carrie took a sip of her water, focusing her eyes to her aunt and uncle as they spoke about Harrison. Her cousin sat down in front of Carrie, Carrie forgetting her name. Mary, Marjane, Margaret, whoever, had sat down with a smile on her face, watching the room with wide eyes, waiting for her family to become quiet. 

“As you know, Aaron and I have been married for a few years now, and I’m happy to say that we found out we’re going to have a baby boy this spring.” 

Carrie rolled her eyes, gulping down her drink and looking around to the rest of the family with smiles on their faces. Each year someone else had something new to announce, whether it be an engagement, a divorce, a baby. She continued to push around the food on her plate, mixing her sweet potatoes into her mashed potatoes and ignoring her family’s toasts to her cousin and her husband.

Carrie sat down her fork, pushing her chair back from the table, staring intently to the table, feeling her heart begin to race and realization bubbling up in her throat. She closed her eyes, taking short breaths, excusing herself to leave the room. 

As she glared at her eyes in the bathroom mirror, the black circles that had not gone away despite sleeping in every day, her decreased appetite but her sweater tightening. Carrie splashed cold water onto her face from the sink, her skin growing hotter as she kept wetting her face, dowsing a washrag in the water and trying to get herself to cool down. She clenched her teeth together, taking a paper cup to swallow water from but spitting it out, hardly letting it graze her lips before she started to freak out again. 

Carrie locked the door, pulling the towel off from the rack and shoving it beneath the door and sitting down in the shower itself to keep noise from going out. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and dialed Mark’s number, her fingers moving so fast and so haphazardly that she dialed it wrong the first time, having to enter it in a second time and wait for the dial tone to dissipate.

“Mark, I need your help.” Carrie said into the phone, hugging her knees to her face and keeping her voice quiet to hold back how hoarse that she was becoming, whether that be from tears or her own fears. “I don’t know what to do right now, please talk to me.”

“Is everything okay? What is happening?” Mark’s voice rose as he spoke, waiting to hear Carrie’s breath on the other side, sneaking away from his own family Christmas get together. 

“I think that I’m pregnant, no, I know that I am. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to tell my family, I have no money on me to go to the drug store, I don’t know what to tell Jennifer, I don’t know how I’ll finish my degree. Worst of all I have to tell fucking Harrison. He doesn’t want kids and says he never will, he’s married, he’s running for office. I ruin his entire campaign if anyone other than he and I and our circles find out about this. Mark, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know if I want a baby or not.” 

“Stop rambling. You’re talking too fast for me to understand what you’re saying.” Mark put his phone on speaker as he walked into his bedroom, slamming the door shut quickly. 

“I’m crying my eyes out and I’m hiding in the bathroom at my aunt’s house. I want you to know that I’m sorry that I let you down and that I shouldn’t have ignored you. You’re always there for me, and I need you really badly at the moment.” Carrie hit her head on the tub as she reclined backwards, dropping the phone and continuing to speak, her voice lower on Mark’s end than it had been before. 

“Do you have PayPal? I’ll send you the money you need to go to the store. Don’t worry right now, it’s just a fluke. You’re probably anxious, it’s alright.”

“No, all the signs are there. I’ve not wanted to eat at all, I’ve been nauseous and not just anxiety nausea, my sweater is tighter than it was a few months ago. I’m two weeks late, not that you need to know that.” Carrie pulled her phone back to her ear and heard a knock on the bathroom door, placing her phone down again to shoo the person on the other side away. 

“The only good part about me having feelings for you is that I’ll fight Harrison if he gets upset with you over this.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Carrie started laughing, accidentally biting her cheek. “It’s not only his fault, don’t worry. I’m just as upset as he’ll be.”

“Send me your PayPal and let me know how it goes. You’re going to be fine, don’t worry about anything. And I grew up with sisters, people are late to their period plenty of times.” 

“You’re the eldest sibling, your sisters are younger than I am, and I’m not a virgin. So I have everything to worry about now. I’ll call you back though, I’m sorry about all of this. It seems that every time I speak to you I’m even more of a mess.” 

↯

Mark rolled down the window of his car, feeling the snow fall onto his windbreaker and snot running from his nose begin to freeze. He had never been to Illinois before and had severely undermined the idea of a polar vortex. Carrie walked out of her house with her bags in hand, bundled in layer upon layer, running up to Mark’s car as quickly as she could. 

Mark had driven from Baltimore to Carrie’s hometown, over seven hours normally and considerably longer in the snow, just to take her back to Manhattan and let her escape her family members. 

“I guess they took the news well,” Mark smiled, unlocking his doors for Carrie to climb inside. 

“Sure, dimwit. I wouldn’t be calling you to travel cross country to get me after I was kicked out if yesterday went swimmingly.” Carrie slammed the car door shut, stripping from her coat and reclining back the seat. 

“What are you telling Harrison?” Mark asked as Carrie opened an eye to stare at him. 

“I don’t fucking know, I didn’t expect to be pregnant with my professor and presidential candidate’s child during my first semester of college.” Carrie rubbed her temples. “I hate this.”

“You’ve got options, you don’t have to go through with this.”

“I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t keep our child,” Carrie tried to crack a smile but failed as the corners of her lips turned down. 

Mark pulled out from her driveway, turning up the radio to drown out the sound of his tires squealing in the sleet. Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ played from the speakers, Carrie turning it up louder as she felt tears falling down her cheeks, warming her face after braving the chilly air. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mark put his hand on the center console, watching Carrie’s eyelids twitch as she continued to cry. 

“No, I’m not ready yet.” Carrie crossed her arms, trying to fall asleep. “Thank you for driving all the way here, and for driving me back into the city. I know we are just leaving my place, but I appreciate you doing this for me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn't said yes.”

“That’s what friends are for, I know you’d do the same, even if we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.” Mark turned the radio back down as he drove onto the highway, the sound of his windshield wipers scraping off the snow the main sound now. “I’ll drop you off at school and I’ll drive home. You’re fine with staying in a hotel tonight, right? I can’t drive another ten hours without rest.”

“You need rest, and so do I.” Carrie rolled over in the passenger seat, facing the window and covering her eyes with her scarf. “I’m going to sleep, thank you. For everything.”

Mark watched Carrie drift off, trying not to distract himself from driving. The days he would spend with her before school began again would pass by fast. He hadn’t realized how separated that they had become until he didn’t recognize her voice on the phone when she had first called him before Christmas Eve. He was set to graduate next year and try to become a broadway swing, and Carrie would be in her second year of her undergrad degree, having to find a job and taking care of another human being. 

As Mark arrived to Carrie’s dorm for the second time, having driven home then rode a train back into the city, he tossed a blanket to her as she rolled her eyes as him opening her door. Carrie immediately wrapped herself in the new blanket, not even taking the time to remove the tag. She’d been taking this worse than Mark had expected her to.

Mark sat on Carrie’s form room floor and did his homework, which was reading his scripts for the spring semester and marking the pages. Carrie hung off the side of her bed, watching reruns of _Friends_ and staring at the floor, contemplating her life so far, how badly that she had screwed up and ruined everything, nothing that Mark had said having any effect when it came towards cheering her up. 

Jennifer arrived back to New York before Jillian had, walking into Carrie’s dorm to see she and Mark sharing a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, listening to Harrison giving a speech on television. Jennifer asked what had happened, and Carrie declined to answer, Mark having to explain everything. 

“You’re stronger than this, stand up and get to work, You’re going to be fine, you, Mark, and I will get an apartment uptown, somewhere cheap with more than just one bedroom, we’ll all take shifts taking care of the child, you’ll be the best mother of all time.”

“Sure,” Carrie dug her spoon deeper into the pint of ice cream, knocking Mark’s spoon out of the way. “If you want to lie to yourself then you can.” 

Jennifer took the blanket off of Carrie’s bed and wrapped it around her, taking her arms around Carrie and squeezing her as tightly as she felt safe to do, and refused to let go. “You’re scared.”

“I am,” Carrie whispered, taking Jennifer’s hands and curling into her chest. 

↯

The train made the screeching halt at the station, even after riding down that line for a semester Carrie would always shift to the right in her seat, the announcement that they had arrived in 103rd street catching her off guard as her cross body bag would snap against her chest. The stack of cardboard boxes in the empty seat beside of her stayed stationary, by miracle. She steadily moved off of the train, exiting the subway station in with a pile of boxes in her hands, rolling through the turnstile, edging through the now-dead and barren trees carving out the scenery on the sidewalk. As she walked up to Harrison’s apartment, she moved as slowly as she possibly could, wishing that she would never have to go inside again. The melancholic feeling of today being her last day with him relieved her, but she was still despondent about letting him go. 

She never had him, anyway. 

She knew that when he smiled to her, he would smile the same smile to his wife, She knew that when they’d have sex, it was merely an activity to him, just something to pass the time. There was always a certain twinkle in his eyes when she spoke, but she was focusing so much on enunciation and rounding her lips in perfect ways that he was more than likely just infatuated by her linguistics, ignoring what she was saying.. She was his student, absolutely nothing more. A hobby, an incident, something that he couldn’t hold on to. 

But, if she never had him, why was he all that she could hold onto? 

Harrison was reliable. Each Thursday, paperwork, research, planning, then moving on, sex, laughing, deep conversations and secret keeping. As she’d confide in him she’d feel at ease. She’d left her boyfriend for her stupid professor, his stupid smile and his stupid campaign. She was having an affair with a presidential candidate, a stupid idea. 

Carrie would have never thought of doing that in high school, would’ve never even dreamed of doing it the summer before her first semester, but something had changed when she walked into his classroom on the first day. She didn’t want to learn anything about law or economics, she wanted to learn about him and what love was. 

Was she in love? 

Was he? 

Harrison didn’t love his wife, he had openly admitted it to her. Carrie knew that they didn’t have common interests, that she didn’t care about his aspirations, didn’t want to pay attention to him, but he still stuck with her, still talked to her each night, even if she wasn’t home. Wasn’t love staying through sickness and in health? She could’ve been in her sickness.

Carrie wanted him to love her instead of his wife, even if he only loved her the least amount humanly possible.

One percent would be enough. Half a percentage would be even better, she wouldn't feel so bad about possibly ruining his marriage, then. But now they’d had too much fun, done too much. His wife probably had her speculations, her roommate knew and was spreading information, they were going to have a fucking child together, which he didn’t know of. 

He was going to find out that afternoon, as they’d pack his books into boxes and clip papers. She’d sit him down, then blurt it out, want the best, but truly hope for the worst. She wanted Harrison to forget about her, and perhaps she would forget about him. He saw her in the hallway and opened the door to his home, waving to Carrie as she reluctantly walked inside. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she spoke softly, hoping that he didn’t hear her, spitting out the words without even thinking first. He frowned, letting his hand fall to his side. Harrison, for the first time she remembered, seemed to care about leaving now. _Fuck._ She wasn’t ever going to forget him. 

“ ‘Have to,” he laughed, inhaling as he let the laugh go. “I’ll miss you, kid.” 

“Are you ready to pack your shit?” 

Carrie found herself tugging down her sweatshirt each time she would reach up for a book on his bookshelf, fearful that he would notice her abdomen. Nothing there was noticeable, although when she had shown Mark, all he had said was that he thought she had had a belly ring, when she had, in fact, never even considered one. He’d last seen her two days ago, though, and, in her opinion, she could see something there. Be it extra fat or a child.

“Are you cold? I’ll give you the sweatshirt you left here over break,” Harrison took out her fuzzy grey sweater from one of his deep desk drawers as she was shoving his office supplies into cardboard boxes. 

“Thanks,” Harrison tossed it to Carrie and she quickly tugged off her current shirt, turning her front towards the shelf as she pulled the much larger sweater on. The scent of the dust collecting onto the books was almost nauseating, that old book smell that could either be nostalgic or mildewed resembled the latter. 

This room, the maroon walls and dark brown carpeting, worn down to the nub from the months of Carrie pacing across it brainstorming and telling Harrison her ideas. The room held the grand bookshelves, filled with books on absolutely everything, and Harrison had read them all. The hours spent in this room, the talking, the bickering, the stacks of documents piling up beside the printer. She remembered straddling Harrison in his swivel chair, that same chair whisked away to Washington, already in the first set of moving trucks that had taken most of the furniture whilst she was away on winter break. 

She would never set foot into his office again, nor would she the rest of the house. Carrie would never see Harrison again after that day. There was always the chance that he’d want to meet up for lunch, but he was running for office, and she was trying to run from herself. She was barely twenty, her life was falling apart so quickly that she felt as if she was having a midlife crisis. Her high school boyfriend had up and left her, and rightfully so, her only friend was her roommate’s boyfriend, and her family had practically disowned her, after their whole argument during break. She was with child, the child half her professor, and he didn’t even have a clue. Her family had no money, and neither did she. Carrie couldn’t support herself without help from home, which she was now without, and definitely wouldn’t be able to pay for her tuition or to take care of a child. She would have to stay in college, though, she’d have to try and graduate as early as possible in order to pay the least amount of money for student loans. Studying was not her forte, law bored her out of her mind, but now there was a child for her to support on her own, with the potential forty-fourth president as their father. 

“Can I, talk to you for a second?” Harrison stopped packing and turned to Carrie. 

“..I should probably talk to you first,” Carrie let her back thump onto the bookcase, exhaling hard and fast, focusing all of her energy on asking herself why she even spoke. “I’m sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re gonna kill me, I know you are.” 

“Carrie, your life’s not a horror movie,” Harrison laughed, trying to cut out a chunk of the tension coating their conversation. “You can tell me anything.” 

Carrie closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, then wishing she hadn’t, as she still stood against the old books. She felt dizzy, so unsure and anxiety stricken. With Harrison, she felt like she belonged in college. She was in love with him, he made her endlessly happy. Harrison didn’t seem to share the same feelings, but there was at least their physical connection and their friendship. All that Carrie wanted to do was to empty herself, empty herself of the words unspoken, the lump in her throat and knot in her stomach, empty herself of any feelings at all. 

Her breathing constricted, her heart beat intensely. She was going to lose everything. Carrie darted her eyes to Harrison, then straight down to her toes, tracing the paisley pattern on her sneakers as she concentrated on stopping herself from the urge to vomit from the nerves. 

The heat turned on in the home, the low buzz of the heat and air system sounding through the room, filling the silence that had been pulsating through her mind for too long. She swallowed, tightening her eyes shut at the same time then forcing them open. Harrison was tidying up his desk, but still attentive. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Sure you are,” Harrison laughed, turning back to his boxes. “What did you really want to tell me?”

“I’m not kidding. I would never joke about that.” Carrie lifted her hand to feel below her tear duct, her fingers feeling the bags beneath her eyes puff. 

“You’re serious?” Harrison leaned back in his chair, his head hitting the bookcase. Harrison stopped moving, his hands freezing up as he blinked once or twice, he snapped his head to Carrie, swallowing equally as hard as she just had. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Carrie cracked her knuckles, keeping her eyes on Harrison, working with all of her strength not to explode on him. She watched as Harrison moved his tongue inside of his mouth, thinking of what to say, what to do. He opened his mouth, Carrie not knowing whether to take a breath or to speak, but she shook her head, beginning to grip onto his desk to steady her balance. 

She tapped her nails on Harrison’s desk quietly, observing how her fingers drifted up and down on the wood. Carrie bit her tongue and looked back up to Harrison, feeling a lie begin to spill from her teeth. “You don’t have to worry though, it isn’t yours, it’s Paul’s

“You’re twenty years old, Carrie. You’re at one of the top colleges in America, you’re helping me with a presidential campaign. You’re trying to get into law school and become a lawyer later on. You've got no money, you’re living in a dorm in New York. You’re going to have to move out, you're in the most expensive city in America, you don’t have a job.” Harrison rest his head into his palms. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Do you think I planned for this shit?” Carrie backed away from Harrison’s desk just to slam her hands back onto it again. “Of course I didn’t. Do I know what to do? No. I’m afraid as hell, I don’t know what’s coming next for me. But I’m not going to tolerate you being upset with me for my life choices.” 

“You’re throwing away your career, you’re throwing away your entire life. Fucking hell, I can’t believe you’d do this. You’re an amazing kid, you’d make a fantastic lawyer, and now you’re not even going to be able to finish your second semester of college. I thought you were better than this.” The wrinkles on Harrison’s forehead tightened as he spoke. “You’re pregnant and you’re in college and you’re throwing this all away. You’re going to have to drop out and move back home to the middle of nowhere and live with that awful ex-boyfriend of yours and never be satisfied with life. Why would you even think about going through with this?”

“That I would do this? Do you think I actually want this? What do you think I did? Do you think that I woke up one morning wanting to get pregnant in college? Obviously not.” 

“I had so much hope for you and this is what has happened. I thought you were smarter than this, I thought you were responsible, that you had a plan for your life, and I was wrong. Carrie, I want to believe that you’re not an idiot, but I can’t believe that this has happened.”

Carrie bit her tongue, wanting to blurt out to Harrison that this was partly his fault, that she was going to have his child, that he should be the one taking responsibility. She wanted him to know that he was the only man that she had ever had sex with, the only person that she had ever loved. She wanted Harrison to know that it was him who threw a wrench into all of her plans, that had caused her to get into this mess. Placing her hands beneath her eyes, she felt tears begin to spill onto her fingertips, her throat echoing chokes out into the room no matter how hard she tried to silence them. 

“Hey, hey,” Harrison stood up from his desk, putting an arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” Carrie turned her face to yell at him, feeling spit leave between her teeth. She pulled her hair out of her eyes and gave up on suppressing her tears. “I thought that I could trust you, that I could tell you anything. I’ve never loved someone before in my entire life until I met you. And I know that I fucked up, but don’t be mad at me for something that I only had half of the control over.”

“I just want what’s best for you, and this isn’t it.”

“Of course it isn’t! Don’t act like I don’t know that. I’m not a child. I’m an adult, sure I’m young, but I’m a legal adult, I can make my own decisions. Harrison, I fucking loved you. I still love you, but I don’t ever want to see your face again. I knew you’d be disappointed, but what the fuck? Why did you have to say all of that?” Carrie pushed Harrison away as he walked close to her again. “I don’t want for you to look at me. I don’t want you to speak to me. I don’t even want to be in the same room as you. I’m fucking glad that you’re leaving, I never even want to be in the same city that you are. I’m staying here in New York, I’m staying in school, I’m getting that damn Juris Doctor. You don’t have any faith in me right now, and looking back I don’t think that you ever actually did in the first place.” 

“Don’t leave, please don’t leave.” Harrison watched Carrie walk away from him. She was walking away from the door but was still going into a corner away from where he stood. “I can apologize, I can explain. I’m hard on you because I want you to be better and I know that you can. Don’t ever think that even for just one second that I’ve never had any hope in you. You walked into my life four months ago and changed my entire outlook on what living is. I’m not afraid to admit that I think you’re going to be unhappy, that you shouldn’t keep this child and that you should continue on with the plan you made before.”

“I’m not having a fucking abortion over you. You would have nothing to do with my child anyway. You’re being irrational. I can’t be this picture-perfect person for you to work alongside with and fuck. I don’t exist to be everything you want me to be. I’ve practically just been a glorified escort, and you’re lucky that I won’t go to the press and tell them about the affair that we’ve been having. I owe absolutely nothing to you.”

Harrison took a step back, opening up his office door. “I’ll keep the door open, I’m not going to let it hit you on your way out.”

“I wish you would,” Carrie walked away from the corner and out of Harrison’s office door. She closed it herself, taking one last look at him, his disheveled hair, his red velvet tie, his shoes firmly planted into the carpet, and a single tear falling from his eyes. 

  
  


**With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:**

**And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?**

**Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,**

**And Hope without an object cannot live.**

**Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort)**

**Can make a hard man hesitate—and change.**

**And he will be the one to stammer, "Yes."**

**Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?**

‘Work without Hope’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years of Summer Stock in Washington, DC, Jennifer and Mark convince Carrie to move there with them. Carrie is out of law school, qualified to pass the DC bar, and living with Mark, Jennifer, and her daughter, Sara. When Carrie is assigned a case by her manager, she doesn't expect to see the ex-love of her life sitting across the table from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as it has been since I began writing this, I'm dedicating this to Mabe, Maria, and Phoebe. This work is as much mine as it is yours. I'm gonna take the time to do the things we never have. 
> 
> Also, I want to thank my friends Hannah, Paula, and Angela. You've given me so much love for this fic, and I love you for it.

**_We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance._ **

_Harrison Ford_

“Fine, I’ll unwrap the wine glasses. It’s not like you’ll use them anyways,” Jennifer ripped off the paper encasing the glasses, tossing it over her shoulder into a cardboard box. “I gave these to you as a gift five years ago and they haven’t even been touched.” 

Carrie recalled that Christmas, where she had given Jennifer a sweater and she had received wine glasses in return, just hours after dropping another glass onto the floor, bending down to clean it, the glass scraping her thigh. 

“They were a gift,” Carrie smiled as she touched the scar on her leg, knowing that she was far too clumsy to appreciate the gift of something fragile. “I’ll stick to my plastic solo cups when I want something to drink.” Carrie sliced open another box with the box cutter, pulling out a stack of paper plates and an old stereo. 

“We’re not in college anymore, give me these. As an adult, I’m going to force you to use real cutlery and crockery.” Jennifer stole the paper plates from the box Carrie had opened and threw them over her shoulder once again, most definitely not landing them into the empty box but shrugging it off. 

“You moved out of our apartment in May. The last meal that we all ate was on paper plates. Last time I checked, you graduated four years ago.”

“But now we’re in an actual house, not some two-bedroom apartment in the heights that we tried to make into a four-bedroom.” Jennifer stood up from the linoleum floor and took a rag to clean off the few porcelain plates that Carrie had packed, wiping off the dust and setting them into the sink. “I’m glad that you’re finally down here. We missed you being away.”

“I was only in New York two months longer than you and Mark were,” Carrie said, taking a box cutter and tearing the tape from another box. “I stayed there to take the bar, not to bring back all of the shit that you didn’t want to transport.” 

Carrie sighed, preparing to unpack another box, hoping that it was filled with something large instead of a million tiny trinkets, dreading the act of putting away something such as silverware. “I wasn’t going to send my child off with you two for two months either, no matter how much you begged me to.” 

“Mark and I love Sara, she would have been fine,” Jennifer playfully rolled her eyes, holding up a dish towel that was badly stained, tossing it beneath the sink to use for cleaning. 

“For the first two days, she would have been fine. I’m not going to trust you two with another human being. You’re better as her fake aunt and uncle.” Carrie stood up to stand alongside Jennifer, taking a box from beside her that was empty and breaking it down. “Do you think she likes it here?”

“She told me that she misses the park, but we all miss that. I think she’s better off here, a more suburban lifestyle, less to get into. We know how you were during your first semester of college, so if that’s any indicator…” Jennifer started running water, squirting soap into the sink and smirking to Carrie. 

“This is the largest house that I’ve ever lived in. Even when my parents had money, I think the most we ever got was a three-bedroom.” 

“You thought we couldn’t find anything nice in D.C. That’s funny.” Jennifer turned the sink off and opened the curtains, overlooking the rest of the neighborhood and seeing that the trees were completely green. “Mark and I spent three summers here for Summer Stock theater, we knew where to find a good place for cheap. It’s not that big of a house either, it’s a rental and my room’s the size of a closet.” 

“I wasn’t too sure of this when I first visited a month or so ago when I was wrapping up classes. Mark’s bedroom was bare, and it still is, but yours has gotten better. I hope that you’ve enjoyed my gift of silk sheets.”

“I do, and unlike you, I actually use my gifts.” Jennifer faced Carrie, looking unimpressed. “I’m kidding, I know how much you treasure the wine glasses.”

Carrie climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, observing the floorplan again, the narrow hallway spitting out in each direction of a compass, bedrooms in each of the four corners. Jennifer had helped her in unpacking Sara’s bedroom a few days before, hanging pictures on her walls and a canopy above her bed. The only room in the house Carrie had to worry about was her own, boxes still shoved to the side of the walls, only her bed and desk meeting as a resemblance of a bedroom. She had taped the photo of her with Jennifer and Mark at their first party above her desk, having held onto it in her wallet for far too many years, and beside it had photos of her alongside Mark and Jennifer again, and while there were only a few, the photos managed to span across the six years that they had known each other. Mark holding Sara for the first time, the picture grainy from an old cellphone but still just as wonderful. Jennifer doing her makeup before her first performance outside of college, rolling her eyes as Carrie pressed the flash. Jennifer and Carrie posing together at a Halloween party, the photo was taken at one of the rare fraternity parties that they would frequent at most twice per year, their hands clasped together and smiling wide. She began to laugh at a photo of Mark, looking young as ever and holding a beer, a sweater underneath his t-shirt and pointing to the camera, Carrie having failed to notice what exactly his t-shirt had on it. 

Carrie took the photo down from her wall and stuffed it into her desk drawer, replacing its spot with a photo of her and Sara last Christmas, laughing as they looked towards the camera. She sighed and she closed the drawer, taking one last look at Mark and his t-shirt endorsing Harrison’s first campaign, the party that the photo was taken at being one of her last pleasant memories of Harrison and one of her last memories involving him at all. 

She opened up the box closest to her desk to take out both of her degrees, hanging them up on nails, one on each side of her desk. Her newest one had not even been unwrapped yet, Carrie stealthily removing the thin paper covering it before hanging it up, scrunching the tissue paper into a ball and tucking it into a small trash can. She reminisced about the days that she spent at parties and away from work, school, and home, that time period only lasting for the first few months. College had been kind to her, a lot better to her than she believed it would be or that she deserved. Harrison leaving had ushered in urgency for her to get her life back together, and without a support system, she would have failed at that. Jennifer and Mark resided to spend their weekends in her dorm, Jillian either out or judging them from a corner, she and Mark cutting off ties by March. 

Carrie felt around at the bottom of the box, finding more photographs to tack up above her desk, placing one of herself and Jennifer in the fall of 2007 beside Mark and Sara. As Carrie’s first year had ended, Jennifer found a place for the three of them, the trio and their plus one moving in the next month, days after Sara had been born. 

Mark understood reality, taking on another odd job that paid well to help Carrie in the first months, while Jennifer was only excited to be an aunt, not living in the real world long enough. Carrie began to take out loans, and though the interest rates were high, she had enough to provide without Mark sacrificing his life or herself and Jennifer sacrificing their school. 

The rest of Carrie’s undergraduate years were uneventful, her professors not too hard, no love affairs or a second daughter. 

Law school had been difficult, the demands of the courses nowhere near as taxing as the fact that there were no scholarships covering it. Jennifer and Mark began to spend their days and nights doing off-off- _off_ Broadway work, then their entire summers down in D.C. for Summer Stock. Sara was old enough to not need constant supervision, Carrie being able to work alone in the evenings. She spent her final year looking for a firm in D.C. that would take her, wanting to be there for Mark and Jennifer as they had jobs lined up. She needed not only to have Sara living a normal life outside of the city, but needed somewhere to live that offered her a sense of financial stability. 

No matter the accomplishments that she achieved or the milestones in her life, Carrie could never outrun Harrison, whether it be in New York or D.C., and the simple thought of being in his near vicinity again made her stomach ache, knowing that even after years of trying to forget about him, she always wanted to go back to him, or at least to the days when commuting to his loft was her largest problem. Wanting to go back to him was a stretch, rather she wanted to work something out with him for Sara’s sake. 

He’d had a larger impact on her life than anyone else. He was the first person that made her believe in herself, the first person that ever showed her and let her experience what love was, and although they both said that there were no strings attached, they both knew that there were. Like a ball of yarn being stretched into a single line, then back into a tangle again. 

He had taught her diligence, on how not to give up, and he also taught her to relax, to let herself go. Harrison had given her a daughter, the one thing more important to Carrie than life itself. 

Harrison didn’t know about his effects on Carrie, and she hoped that he never would. After months of her trying to send him letters and none of them getting through, Carrie gave up and began to close herself off from any mentions of him, that act becoming harder and harder after Harrison won the 2008 election. It seemed that everywhere she went she saw his face or overheard someone speaking about him. She could hear a lie about him, but could never correct anyone because they would never know Harrison the way that she did. 

Carrie opened her desk drawer to find a sticky note with two phone numbers written upon it, Jennifer had asked for the numbers of the men that had helped Carrie move in. She was tempted to crumple the paper and to toss it into one of the empty boxes she had surrounding her, but folded it and placed it into her pocket, saving it for Jennifer’s enjoyment. 

“Do you even know these people?” Carrie walked back downstairs to hand Jennifer the paper, watching her unwrap it and smile. 

“One of them works at the theater, this is an odd job he found. The other one? No, but you can take him if you’d like.” 

“I’m not interested in dating anyone right now,” Carrie brushed the dust off of her t-shirt and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve got way too much happening.” 

“I’m calling the first one, so, if you’re free on Friday and the other guy is too, I’ll let you know.” Jennifer winked, opening up a cabinet and placing a measuring cup inside of it. “Besides, when was the last time you saw someone? And don’t say Mark.” 

“God, that was one time and it was awful, you know I don’t have the greatest taste.” Carrie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “It was cool, like, semi-dating, but the second we tried something I just laughed in his face.”

“It’s been a while, and I know that you like work and relaxing and being a mother but you need to go out.” 

“I go out with you all the time.”

“To a cheap bar or a consignment shop. I’m your best friend, not your girlfriend.” Jennifer typed away at her phone screen, lifting it to her ear and saying hello. 

“If anything actually comes of this, I’ll tell you that I told you so, but I can guarantee you that I’m not going to have a great time.” 

“The other dude’s name is Brad!” Jennifer held her phone away from her ear and whispered. “Friday? Of course, that works!” Jennifer smiled back to Carrie, Carrie walking over and swatting at her arm. 

“Hi, yes, this is Carrie,” Carrie grabbed Jennifer’s phone from her hand. “I’m actually busy that evening vacuuming the hardwood. But if I’m free I’ll have Jennifer call you back.” 

Carrie sat on top of the counter, rolling her eyes as she listened to Jennifer making excuses. Jennifer ran her fingers through her hair, ignoring that they had become caught in the curls, and continued to talk quickly, furrowing her brows and shouting into the phone as she lost connection.

“Are you kidding me?” Jennifer sighed, taking back her phone and redialing. 

“If you go out with the guy that you chose and if it all goes well, let me know. Then I’ll consider Friday night.” Carrie opened the fridge to grab a coke, popping the tab off and heading back to her bedroom, hoping that she had packed a coaster. 

⇣

The ever-so-familiar drumming of her pen onto a legal pad kept Carrie’s eyes glued to her computer screen, trying to find the information that she needed to write between the lines of her paper, her vision blurred from hours without sleep. Her managing partner had neglected to tell her the full details of her case, giving a specific outline and leaving out any names. Gone were the days of analyzing anonymous cases in school and so was the knowledge of how to do so. Carrie felt her head rest into her palm and began to write again, only scribbles flowing from the tip of her pen. 

“You need to sleep,” Jennifer opened the door to Carrie’s bedroom and removed the coffee cup from her desk. She covered the lid with an excess sheet of paper and set it aside, removing the leather jacket she had borrowed from Carrie’s closet and folding it onto her mattress. “When I left you were sitting here reading a book, and now I’m back and you’re reading a webpage. It’s been six hours, give yourself a break.” 

“I wanted to stay up until you got home tonight. I’m not going to let you go off on a date with this guy that we hardly know and not worry about your safety.”

“I do know him, don’t forget that we work together.” Jennifer stooped down to Carrie’s window, tilting down the mirror sitting on the ledge and removing her makeup with a wipe. “In the midst of your _worry_ , did you seem to forget that it’s three in the morning?”

“I have to prepare for this, I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s my first one,” Carrie reached for the coffee that Jennifer had pushed away, Jennifer taking her fingers and chopping Carrie’s hand away. 

“You moved in a week ago. All I’ll say is that your boss is a tyrant for wanting you to do this level of work when your bedroom isn’t even unpacked.” 

“I went to school three years for this, I think he expects even more than what I’m doing now,” Carrie rolled her eyes, sighing and clicking her pen off again. “How was tonight?”

“My date?” Jennifer smiled as she rubbed away her lipstick. “Well, we’re going out again Friday, and you have to come with us.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“I’ve never had a guy treat me this well in my entire life. I didn’t even know what it was like to feel attraction towards someone until now, I guess. Matthew and the other guys in college and back in New York were just there to be there, but I think me and this one have got an actual connection.” Jennifer stopped removing her makeup to smile up at Carrie. “His name’s Patrick, and he teaches dance where I work, and I think that Mark already knows him.”

“I’m happy for you, you know that I am, but I don’t want to go out on Friday.” 

“If you were actually happy for me then you would go out with us on Friday night. He’s invited you and me to go to a party with his friend Brad, your date, and it’s at some mansion in the right area of town. Some government dude that they ran into at a bar once.” Jennifer continued to scrub away at her foundation and yanked another one of Carrie’s makeup wipes from the packaging. “It’s a masquerade party. I thought that we could borrow costumes and masks from the theater.”

Carrie cocked a smile at Jennifer before returning to her work, scribbling down notes on the lined page and continuing to click her pen in frustration. 

“You have to go,” Jennifer laughed. “Please? I swear you’ll have a great time.”

“Sure,” Carrie sighed. “I’ll get Mark to stay here with Sara since he doesn’t have work, and you and I can raid the closets in the afternoon. And if anything does happen, remember that I have my meeting Monday and that I would rather not roll out of bed after a three-day bender to meet with someone.” 

“It’ll be fun.” Jennifer trailed off. “Is it because it’s a double date that you don’t want to go?” 

“It’s the fact that I’m going out on a date in general.” Carrie turned off her computer and turned around in her desk chair to face Jennifer. 

“Carrie,” Jennifer rolled her eyes, tossing her makeup wipe into a waste bin. “Stop being bitter.”

“What makes you think that I’m bitter? I’m allowed to be tired. Besides, I’m happy for you. Lord knows I haven’t dated anyone since college.” 

“You dated a lot of people in college,” Jennifer sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t call it dating, but you were pretty fucking desperate at one point.” 

“That wasn’t my proudest moment.” Carrie laughed, standing up and hanging her jacket back on the hanger it belonged to, placing it into her closet. “I just don’t want to be in a relationship again until I get my career started and Sara’s old enough to get what’s happened and to get a house of my own.”

“Carrie, that’s never going to happen. I don’t have any doubts that you’re going to have a great career, but I know that you secretly hate doing this. And Sara’s smart, she’s almost another you, but you’re never going to be able to have her understand who her father is and why she can’t see him without painting him out as the bad guy.” Jennifer stole a t-shirt from Carrie’s drawer, taking off her top and bra and then snaking it on, speaking again once her head was through. “You went almost a quarter-million dollars in debt from student loans, no matter how much money you make, you’ll never fully pay that back, and that means that your credit probably isn’t the greatest.” 

“Who the fuck pissed in your oatmeal today?” Carrie put Jennifer’s dirty clothes into her hamper. “Let me be single in peace.” 

Carrie pushed in her desk chair and stuffed her notes into her desk drawer. She turned off her lamp and found pajamas beside her bed, beginning to put them on with her back turned from Jennifer. 

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, I’ve just been out of it lately. I was anxious about tonight. You don’t have to go.” Jennifer put her hand onto Carrie’s shoulder, trying to apologize. “I’ll fill you in on everything and it’ll be just fine, you know that in the long run that I’d never pressure you into doing anything.” 

“You’re acting very Jillian.” Carrie checked the time on her phone before turning it completely off. 

“Don’t make me laugh right now,” Jennifer covered her smile with her free hand. “Everyone’s asleep except for us.” 

“I’ll be there on Friday, don’t worry about it. It’ll probably be good for me.” Carrie hugged Jennifer, rubbing her back and letting her leave her room. 

Carrie cleaned up her makeshift vanity where Jennifer sat, sitting everything back onto her window ledge. She pulled back her bedsheets to crawl underneath of them, turning over and groaning into her pillow, rubbing her wrist against the headboard of her bed to work out the writer’s cramp. Still hearing the sound of her pen on paper, Carrie tried to focus on sleep, ignoring the cramping of her hand and the thoughts of her work. She’d spent years of covering up her mistakes and wanting to prove everyone wrong, but Jennifer could always see right through her, knowing when she lied and when she didn’t want to do something.

She turned over in the bed, tossing off her covers and training her eyes to focus only on the alarm clock, watching the time change to 2:47 in the morning. 

⇣

Mark hooked his finger in the loop of his keychain, fishing it out of his pant pocket and placing it onto the table in the foyer, the surface becoming a catch-all. He closed the door behind himself, shaking off his umbrella and resting it against the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to remove the water that had soaked into it before he had opened his umbrella. 

Removing his shoes and throwing them onto the door, for mud had already caked the soles, Mark finally closed the front door, the screen on the outside of it shaking as it slammed. He began to walk up the stairs to his bedroom, stopping to open the door to Sara’s room to check on her. 

“Hey,” Carrie said to Mark as she sat on the floor, her legs crossed together as she sat Sara on the seat of her jeans, brushing out her hair with a comb. “How hard is the rain right now?” 

“It’s fine, you’ll survive.” Mark kneeled down across from them, watching Carrie stare at him, unamused, as Sara rushed over to wrap an arm around him. “Why are you brushing her hair out anyway? I’m babysitting her at home, I’m not going to drive with her in the rain, otherwise, I think you’d kill me.”

“Because I don’t want it to be tangled,” Carrie began to smile as Mark ruffled Sara’s hair, ignoring her own hard work. “It’s not my fault that her hair is curly, that didn’t come from my side.” 

Carrie motioned for Sara to come back to her, her smile growing as Sara’s hands clasped around the back of her neck. “Hey. I love you.” Carrie kissed the crown of her daughter’s head, waiting for her to let go. “I’ll be back tonight, you’ll be asleep already.” Carrie stood up to go to her own bedroom, needing to fix her own hair before she left with Jennifer. “Be nice to Mark, I know you will be, but still.” 

“Bye!” Sara’s waved to Carrie as she left the room, blowing a kiss that made Carrie gain smile lines. 

Carrie pulled down her own hair, wrapping the elastic band onto her wrist and sitting down on her bedroom floor, tilting down the mirror that sat on her window sill and watching herself in it, brushing her hair haphazardly, attempting to force it completely straight down. 

Jennifer texted her that she was already in the car, honking the horn twice as Carrie ignored answering. Carrie stood up, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her purse, taking a final look in the mirror at her outfit, feeling satisfied with her hoodie and shorts, knowing that in less than an hour she would be wearing something more theatrical. 

She walked out of the house, locking the door behind her and meeting Jennifer in the car, buckling her seatbelt and turning the heat towards her. Carrie scrunched her hair in the mirror, surprised that it hadn’t become wet from the rain, and turned on the radio. 

“It’s supposed to stay raining until Monday,” Jennifer turned on the defroster. “I swear that if it’s raining when we get there tonight I’m not even going.”

“You’ve committed me to go, I’m not letting you back out now.” 

“I’m sorry that I’m practically making you go out on a blind date. I just wanted the two of us to have fun.” 

“Jen, stop. It’s fine. You’ll have a great time with Patrick, and who knows, maybe Brad’s cool too.” Carrie took her phone from her purse and texted Mark, saying that the rain wasn’t as bad as he had made it out to be. “We’re going to a nice party, it’ll be like college was.” 

⇣

Carrie laughed at herself in the mirror, having walked straight into a half-bath when she entered the home. She had forgotten to close her umbrella, taking it down and placing it to the floor, and adjusted the felt mask on her face, the illusion of black lace covering her eyes failing. 

She cupped her hands and turned on the sink, taking the water and running it onto a rip in her tights, the seam coming undone before she even met the party’s host. Carrie had never been good at fixing clothing and laughed again at her appearance. She was already wearing all black: her mask, her dress, and her shoes. Her tights were black until they had ripped, exposing her pale skin and showing obvious dampness on the edges of the frayed fabric. 

Jennifer had left to party without her, finding Brad and Patrick beside the makeshift bar, chatting up both of them and waiting for Carrie’s return. Carrie made her way to the three of them, waving hello and moving to Brad as he had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 

He signaled to the bartender, asking for something that Carrie couldn’t hear over the speakers to their right and left, and upon the bartender fetching the beer and handing it to Carrie, she shoved Brad aside and popped open the beer with her house key. Carrie tilted her head to the side, staring at Brad and waiting for him to start up a conversation. She observed the black t-shirt loosely hanging from his frame, tempted to roll her eyes at the fact that they were matching until she realized that he had shown up to a masquerade party without any mask on. 

“You ever been here before?” Brad placed his hand on the small of Carrie’s back. 

“No, I was actually invited by a friend of yours.” Carrie felt her waist to pry Brad’s hand off of her. “Don’t get too comfortable.” She sat down onto a barstool, pushing herself to lean back against the cushioning. 

“What do you do for a living?” 

“I’m an attorney by profession.” Carrie took a sip of her drink, purposely leaving Brad unsatisfied with her answers. “Not by choice. So don’t ask me for any legal shit, I hate doing that when I have to.” 

“So, do you have a life outside of that?” Brad sat down onto a stool, Carrie still watching him and taking note of his personality. “Sports? Hobbies?”

“I have a daughter, and I write, but other than that there’s not much. My life already revolves around her and work.” Carrie picked at the skin beside her thumb. 

“I thought you were single.” Brad coughed, motioning to Patrick who ignored him. 

“I am single.” Carrie turned away, placing her drink onto a coaster but immediately removing it. She pushed her hair out of her face, not in an attempt to provide comfort but to see where Jennifer had run off to.”What are you poking at?”

“I mean, you’ve got a daughter,” Brad scoffed, taking another sip from his cup, swishing the liqueur between his teeth. “She has a father.”

“I’ve known you for four fucking minutes. No wonder you’re taking any date you can get.” Carrie looked beyond Brad, into the next room over where the music was playing from, itching to be there instead. “But no, he’s not in her life. And before you ask, no, I’m not looking for someone to replace him. I’m single, and I’m okay with that. I’m here because of Jennifer, she’s been my roommate since I was twenty.” 

Carrie started to walk away, taking her drink alongside her and moving into the room beside her, maneuvering through the crowd to get her date off of her back and to see if anything interesting was going on. She began to believe that there was not a government worker living there, coming from the wafting smell of weed that followed her footsteps and the tacky party decorations lining the walls. 

She walked into another room, this one quieter and more relaxed. The air was cleaner and the music lower, the walls barren except for a family portrait. The husband seemed uptight, not exactly the person to turn his mansion into an exclusive frat party each weekend, but to each their own. 

Jennifer walked into the room as well, sitting on a loveseat and calling for Carrie to sit down beside her. More people entered the room, mostly men, and entering from another door — there were so many doors in the house that Carrie felt as if it were a maze — with the majority of the men drinking the same drink that Carrie had in the hand, not even half-empty yet from her ginger sips. 

“What’s this? The Republican National Convention? I haven’t seen this many white men with beer since I went to one of your stupid frat parties at Columbia.” Jennifer ran her hands through her hair. “This party blows.” 

“I know. And so does Brad.” Carrie watched as more and more people filed in, their outfits ranging from day suits to tuxedos. “I didn’t know that this was going to be so fancy.” 

“Yeah, the guy who lives here works for the government.”

“Sure he does. Any fucker in D.C. can say that and people will believe it.” 

“But you saw the portrait. He’s in the senate.” Jennifer pointed to the wall, circling the image with her fingertip, Carrie forcing it down. 

“I saw that. You know I don’t know anyone involved with the laws.” 

“Except yourself.”

“I’m a attorney, I know the law. I don’t create it.” Carrie sighed. “I wish I did though, maybe then I could banish Brad from ever being in my vicinity.”

“What did he do? Did he try something?” Jennifer whispered, her eyes looking as if she was ready to inflict pain, eager to run back to the bar and confront Brad for his entire life’s wrongdoings. 

“No, he didn’t try to sleep with me. You’d know if he did. He was just touchy and weird, and he asked me about my life and I mentioned Sara and he was all like ‘I thought you were single’ What the fuck?” Carrie placed her hand onto her forehead. “Is Patrick anything like this?”

“He’s the polar opposite,” Jennifer stated as she smiled. “I shouldn’t talk about me though. You’re having a rough night, so I should talk to you.”

“I’m not,” Carrie laughed. “You’ve seen me on a rough night before.”

“I’m going back to the bar, if you need something then let me know.” Jennifer kicked her feet up from her chair. 

“Alright, I’m just going to wander around the house, see what trouble that there is to get into.” Carrie stood up as well, following Jennifer through the doorway and retreating back to the chair that she had found. 

She scrolled through her phone, thumbing through her text messages and checking her email, taking for granted the smartphone resting between her hands. Carrie looked around the room, seeing the crowd file out again and following behind. 

Carrie linked back up with Brad at the bar again, ordering something stronger and waving to him. Brad walked up to Carrie and interlaced their hands, Carrie’s fingers forgoing any sort of grip to his. 

“I thought that Jennifer was coming back here,” Carrie snaked her hand out of Brad’s grip and cupped her drink with both hands. 

“She and Patrick are on one of the upper floors, I don’t know when they’ll be back.” 

“That’s great. She’s my ride, so if she spends the night I’m fucked.” Carrie shrugged her shoulders. “And I’m not sleeping with you or riding home with you. Know that.” 

“Can I show you something? Maybe change your mind?” 

“I’m not letting you pull your penis out in this living room.” Carrie downed the remainder of her drink, rolling her eyes and motioning her cup back to the bartender. 

“I’m not that stupid.” Brad took Carrie’s hand again, pulling her out of the room, her drink still being made. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Carrie looked around for any signs of Jennifer, wanting to tug her hand away. 

“This is cool, alright? You’re going to be starstruck.” Brad continued to guide Carrie through partygoers, through doors and walls, and stairs. 

“Sure. Like I’ll believe you.” Carrie followed her date reluctantly, finally stopping with him outside of the only door that was cracked open instead of almost off its hinges. 

The room that the pair walked into was smaller than the rest, seeming to connect to the room that Carrie had met Jennifer in beforehand. She relaxed onto a speaker that had been muted, waiting for Brad to tell her what was so special. Carrie checked the time on her phone, not knowing how to react when she saw that she had only been inside for half an hour. 

“Look in the corner, that one guy, white plastic mask, half of his face is completely covered.” Brad pointed to the far right corner, tapping Carrie’s shoulder to regain her attention. “Look at his ring. I’m convinced this dude’s the President.” 

“I’m fairly certain that I can recognize Harrison Ford, you dimwit.” Carrie let out a sigh. “Any man in a suit with a wedding band on is not the leader of the free world.” 

“I think it’s actually him though. The guy who owns this house is high up.” 

“As someone who is, as you pried out of me beforehand, a attorney and knows quite a lot about the presidency, I can assure you that there would be more security and not even half as many people here.” Carrie ran her fingernails beneath each other, focusing her attention into staring at the masked man, wanting to laugh at what random person would appear underneath of it. 

Fixing his hair, the man reached to move the elastic band on his mask, taking it off and looking to the corner where Carrie stood, beginning to smile as he was in the midst of a conversation, but taking a step back and clearing his throat instead. Carrie raised up what she wore as well to get a better look, studying how the man in front of her would look more familiar if glasses rest just below his brows and if the wrinkle beneath his brow would stay permanent for the time being. 

Staring at each other, Carrie felt of her own chin, her eyes trailing the scar marking the chin of the man across the room. She instinctively pushed Brad away from her, taking one last look at Harrison, wondering if he had even recognized her or if he had only picked her out of the crowd as a random guest. 

Harrison turned his back to Carrie as she placed her mask back on, ignoring Brad touching her waist and began walking away. 

Brad tried to catch up to Carrie’s pace, but her strides became longer as she began to knock on every closed door, hoping at Jennifer was standing behind one of them. She found the bathroom that she had been inside of previously and opened the door, neglecting to knock but thankful that no one was there. Carrie locked the door, sitting down onto the tile flooring and leaning her body against the cabinets. 

She was tempted to leave now, just to flock to the car and listen to the rain hitting the sunroof, drowning out her hectic night. Carrie didn’t want to ruin Jennifer’s date, knowing that she had never felt this confident about someone before and that they were most likely together in bed. But, hesitantly, she dialed Jennifer’s number — dialing as opposed to speed dial as to give herself time to back out — and waited for her to pick up. 

“This is about Brad thinking that he saw Harrison, right?” Jennifer said, chuckling and turning up her phone’s volume. “He just practically barged in on us to say that.”

“He’s right, though. I was there.” Carrie made sure the door was locked, kicking it with her feet. “I promise you that it was Harrison. He took off his mask and I took off mine and we stared at each other for a second until he turned his back. He even lost all of his emotion, it was like all of the colors had drained out from his face. I suppose that the same thing happened to me, but I was shocked as well.” 

“Did you have too much to drink? Did you take any illegal shit? There are pills in the basement.”

“No, those wouldn’t bring up my repressed memories.” Carrie crossed her arms, kicking the door again as someone knocked. “How am I supposed to react to running into Harrison? The last time that I saw him was six years ago and it was awful.” 

“Do you want to go home and cry over it? We can watch tv and eat popcorn and talk. And I know that you hate talking about him but you can’t avoid this hurdle in your life. One day you’ll have to climb over it.”

“I have. I’m successful and live in a house and I have a well-paying job and I have Sara and you and Mark.” 

“And what was the compelling force behind your achievements? Other than coming from nothing, and even then you don’t talk to your mother anymore.” Jennifer pulled on her dress, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the door handle, whispering goodbye and faking a telephone motion beside the ear that she didn’t have her phone placed to, saying sorry to Patrick as she left. 

“We can leave, but I’m not talking to you about him. I’m alright with my thoughts and my feelings inside of my head, I don’t even think that I could begin to explain six years of that to you.” 

“I’m your best friend. You can try to. And if you don’t want to then it’s fine, but I’m tired of listening to you and having nothing to hear.” Jennifer walked downstairs, pushing her feet back into her heels. “Where are you? I’m on my way to the main level.” 

“Jen, don’t do this.”

“I’m already halfway there.”

“I’m in the bathroom beside the entrance, let me unlock it for you.” Carrie stood up as well, unlocking the door and tracing the lines in the wood with her pinky finger, choosing to ignore most of Jennifer’s words. “You don’t have to do this for me. Your life would be so much easier without a best friend who fucked the President.” 

“But it wouldn’t ever be this interesting,” Jennifer said, opening the door. “We’re leaving. I know you’re uncomfortable with seeing him again. I wouldn’t know what to do either.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable. There’s nothing to feel weird about. We both screwed up in the first place. I’m not going to be upset over a fallout that was my fault.”

“You are, if you weren’t then you’d not be this upset right now, you wouldn’t have called on me to help.” Jennifer opened up the door, walking out of the home and guiding Carrie back to their car. 

“I feel pathetic. I should have at least said hello, maybe just a simple wave would have been better than nothing.” Carrie climbed back into the passenger’s seat, removing her heels and sitting them on the floorboard, laying back her seat and opening the covering of the sunroof, not only listening to the rain but watching it as well. “The reason why I didn’t even want to go out on this date tonight was that I know I’ll never be over Harrison, or at least his shadow isn’t ever going to stop covering any other relationships that I’m in.” 

“You can choose to move on or you can choose to stay put.” Jennifer started the ignition and sped away from the party. “I know what you’ve decided, though.”

“I’m so weak for doing this.” Carrie sighed, regretting saying anything at all.

“You’re not weak at all. Your entire life’s trajectory changed because of him, and if you don’t believe me when I say this, then fine, but you still love him.”

“No, I don’t.” Carrie drew a heart on the car window beside her with two fingers, the defroster ineffective towards anything but the windshield. “You know me better than to think that.”

“Because you know that it’s all true. Stop denying everything for a second and just breathe, then think of your memories that you have with him.” Jennifer turned on the radio momentarily, hearing Loverboy, their song ‘Working for the Weekend’ serving as the theme song for Harrison’s campaign, and turned it back down. “He was right when he said your career would probably end. He was being honest with you. I always thought that he was just being protective but it just came out all wrong.” 

“For once can we just stop talking about this? I want to go to sleep and study for work and see my daughter. You can even drop me off and come back here because I feel like shit for ruining your night with Patrick.” 

“He’ll be okay, don’t worry about me and him.” Jennifer turned on her signals and pulled into the theater, just a few blocks away from the party they were at. “I need your outfit. Keep the tights, they’re disposable. Your hoodie is in the backseat. I’ll be right back out.” 

Carrie took off her dress, instantly feeling cooler and Jennifer opening the door not helping against her chills. She pulled back on her hoodie and reached over to close the door that Jennifer had opened, placing her own key into the ignition and turning on the heat. 

⇣

The last of the rain edged towards stopping as Jennifer knocked on the door to Carrie’s bedroom. She carried Carrie’s purse in her hand, having left it in the car after the party, and planned to drop it off to her. 

“Come in.”

“You left your purse in the car, I think you’ll need it before tomorrow. Your phone’s in it.” Jennifer sat Carrie’s purse onto her bed, taking her phone out of it. “I don’t see how you just sat your phone in the car for two days. I’d go crazy, I’ve got too many commitments.”

“Sara’s been home all weekend and so have I. Neither you nor Mark have been out much because of the rain. I talk to my boss by email.” Carrie kept her eyes on her computer screen, sitting at her desk when Jennifer had walked in. 

Jennifer watched as Carrie read the screen in front of her, moving her eyes to keep up with the words and writing on her notepad at the same time. She had been in the studio or working at home, while Carrie had been cooped into her room unless she was needed elsewhere. There were plenty of other things for Carrie to do, she could clean the house or go out to eat, but instead she had funneled herself into working. 

“Seeing Harrison on Friday really fucked with you.” Jennifer sat onto Carrie’s bed, laying back to watch the ceiling fan rotate. 

“I don’t want to talk about him. If he didn’t have the courage to say something to me then why should I think any words about him?” Carrie finally looked to Jennifer, pursing her lips. 

“If you’re not singling yourself out in your room because of him, then what are you doing this for? You’re overworking yourself.”

“How did you feel the night before the first class you taught?”

“I didn’t feel anything. I know how to dance, what’s so hard about instructing someone else? I’ve been in classes since middle school, and although you went to law school for three years, you’ve done much more preparation for your career than I had ever done dance-wise before I was hired.” Jennifer shrugged her shoulders. “Go to sleep. You’re seeing the person you’re working for tomorrow morning.” 

“And I have to drive you to the studio at six,” Carrie sighed, unplugging her laptop and clicking her pen closed. “I haven’t driven since I was in high school. I’m twenty-five.”

“We lived in New York forever, I don’t expect you to use a blinker on every turn.” Jennifer made the motions of turning on her signals. 

“I don’t know how long that I’ll be out tomorrow. I’ve got Sara spending the night at her friend's house, so I don’t have to worry too much about her, but you’ve got to have a way to get home.” 

“I’ve got a ride back, don’t worry about me. Take the car wherever you need to be.” Jennifer winked, pulling down her hair and brushing it out, frizzing out and engulfing her neck. “I’ll see you in a few hours, at least try to get some rest.” 

“Thanks, you too.” Carrie took off her t-shirt to wear her tank top from beneath it, her pajama shorts already on. “Do you think Sara’s asleep yet? I put her to bed thirty minutes ago.” 

“She should be, I’ll check. And if I don’t come back then assume she’s fine. Go to sleep, get some rest, we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” 

Carrie woke up to rain hitting her window and her alarm at its highest volume, running past her second snooze time and echoing around the room. She quickly turned it off, holding her head underneath a pillow before deciding to get dressed and ready. 

She heard Jennifer’s footsteps coming from the hallway, running down the stairs in clunky rainboots to start the car. Carrie peered from her window to see Jennifer’s hair drenched and sticking to her forehead, her leotard and her leggings growing heavy with water. 

Carrie continued to get ready, tucking a blouse into pants and throwing on a blazer, praying to God that the blazer was black instead of navy. She brushed out her hair, combing it back into a ponytail, bangs no longer sticking out and framing her face. 

Jennifer tugged on her car door, smashing the unlock buttons on her keychain. She kicked the side of the vehicle, leaving a dent and ignoring it. “Fucking open, we have places to be.” 

Carrie could hear Jennifer’s shouts from inside, laughing as she applied her lip liner. Her shoes sat beneath her window, collecting dust and sinking into the shaggy carpet. Carrie slipped into her heels, having only worn them for her interview at the firm, and began to walk out of her bedroom, opening the hallway window and sticking her head out of it. “Give it a minute, it’s six in the morning, your car doesn’t want to be awake either.” 

Carrie opened each of the bedroom doors as she walked past, Jennifer’s empty, Mark getting ready for work, and Sara fast asleep. She tiptoed into Sara’s room, taking her duffle bag from beside her bed and moving it beside Mark’s door, guaranteeing that the bag would make it to her friend’s home. 

“Go back to sleep, I’m just going to work.” Carrie wrapped her arms around her daughter’s waist as she positioned her bed covers to tuck her back in. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

Jennifer had her foot back on the side of her car, pushing in the metal even further and pulling on the door handle even harder. “Piece of shit, we aren’t getting anywhere.”

“You’re using Mark’s keys,” Carrie took the key fob from Jennifer’s hand, ruffling her hair with one hand and holding an open umbrella over her with the other. She sent a text to Mark that his keys had been placed onto the porch and began to laugh as she saw Jennifer licking her finger to attempt to mask the peeled paint from the dent. Carrie took Jennifer’s keys out from the bottom of Jennifer’s purse, unlocking the car doors and climbing into the driver’s seat. 

“I would be upset about denting my car if it weren’t a 1994 Buick.” Jennifer huffed as she turned on the air conditioning to dry herself off. 

“I told you last night that I don’t know how long this meeting is going to take me. Are you still okay with me having the car all day?” Carrie buckled her seatbelt and turned on the engine. “I’m still not used to driving a car.” 

“Turn on the defroster.” Jennifer laughed as she fixed the buttons for Carrie. “You’ll do fine.”

Carrie pulled out of the driveway, looking up to see Mark closing the window that she had opened and waving to him. “I hope he gets her there on time, I know he’s low on gas.”

“Her friend’s mom isn’t going to care that she was late to a sleepover due to Mark stopping at the gas station.”

“I just worry, you know? I want her to have a better life than I have, and I don’t want people to start blaming shit on her at four years old.” Carrie made the turn out from the neighborhood, using her blinker and glaring at Jennifer. 

“Her father is the President, I doubt her life is going to be too rough,” Jennifer held her head to the air vent as she spoke to Carrie. 

“He doesn’t even know she exists,” Carrie turned on the radio and began to drown out the rain pouring onto the windshield. “You’ve been talking about Harrison so much recently. It ended almost six years ago, I don’t even want to think about him.”

“I’ve met someone new, Mark has a girlfriend, and you don’t have anyone.”

“I’ve told you before that I’m not looking for a relationship. I need to focus on work and Sara and paying the bills. I’m an attorney for family law, I deal with enough relationship drama.” Carrie made another turn to plant Jennifer at the theater, parking Jennifer’s car and walking inside with her. “I have to get to the restaurant by nine, so your ride home better be pretty solid.”

“What are your orders of business for today?”  
  


“I have to scrape by with the research I did last night. That’s all that I’m worried about.” Carrie stepped out from the car with her umbrella, opening Jennifer’s door to let her step underneath the umbrella and to walk inside. “What’s your plan?”

“I have an 8:30 with everyone else who works here, then I start classes from ten to four. And I’ve got another date tonight right after. Mark’ll be here all day from nine this morning to nine at night.” Jennifer continued to wring the water out from her leggings as the pair walked inside. 

“Don’t be nervous about today,” Jennifer sat down in the first dressing room she saw, unlocking her locker and taking out her dance shoes. “Everything will go fine. Call me once you’re done.”

“Thanks, but I’m still going to worry.” Carrie laughed, sitting beside Jennifer on a bench. “I don’t know what to expect. Yeah, I did go to school for this, I have a degree, I’m certified here and New York, but I’ve never actually handled someone’s case. I don’t even truly want to be a attorney. I’d rather be a writer but God knows how little that’d pay.”

“You’ll be just fine,” Jennifer sat down beside Carrie and tugged on her flats. “School is nothing like the real world. You’re going to be more than prepared.”

  
  


⇣

Carrie parked the car parallel to the sidewalk, locking its doors and dropping quarters into the parking meter. The restaurant her clientele had decided to meet at was on the outskirts of D.C., bordering on Maryland and almost masked from the buildings beside it. It was betwixt between an old bank and a clothing store, hardly recognizable as a restaurant until Carrie saw the menus in frames beside the windows. 

Carrie sat in the car for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the clock fixed into the dashboard. She eventually took her key from the ignition and climbed out, careful as she could as she had parked inches away from the meter, though protecting the car from any damage was no longer needed. The sky was far from what it had been that morning, no rain or clouds. Carrie took her sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on, tucking them behind her ears cautiously as to not ruin her hair. 

She began to walk into the restaurant, opening the door and finding herself met with two men in suits, their hands folded and their bodies firmly planted. 

“The fuck are you two trying to do? Kidnap me? I’m here for a meeting.” Carrie laughed, wrinkling her brows as the men in front of her remained calm. “Oh, so you didn’t think that was funny? I told a joke.”

“What’s your name?”

“Carrie. Carrie Fisher? I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I’m going to be late and I need to get going to my table.” 

“Go on, you’re upstairs.” The men created a path between them as Carrie briskly walked through, wondering what they were doing there. 

“Be less direct next time!” She yelled from the top of the stairs, finding her table and checking her watch, seeing that she was ten minutes early and that she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of her client. 

Carrie played with the rings on the napkin placed in front of her, slipping off the second ring and only leaving one. A waiter walked past, offering a bread basket but Carrie declined. Looking around, she realized that no one else was upstairs sparing her and the waiter, leaving herself to curl into her chest, wrapping her blazer around herself, keeping an eye on anything else suspicious. 

She heard footsteps echoing up the stairs, the sound slightly familiar. The same men as before walked in front of a taller man, with only his hair peeking up. Two men walked behind him as well, similar garb to the men in front. They kept walking ahead, Carrie growing increasingly uncomfortable in the room. 

Carrie focused her vision higher, becoming face to face with her client. The air in her lungs began to hang still, her lips slightly parting, feeling her hand reach down to her stomach to keep it from flipping. Her client bit in his top lip, his brows heightening. He smoothed his tie, the velvet falling down as he moved his tie clip, the clip sliver, bent slightly on the edge, a singular, minuscule diamond adorning the center of it. 

One of the guards that had walked him in pulled out his chair, Harrison nodding before sitting down. He rest his hands on the tabletop, knuckles clasped together so tightly that they were losing color. Harrison opened his suit jacket to pull out a small legal pad, taking a pen out as well and beginning to head the paper. 

“I was told I would get the best,” Harrison cleared his throat. “And I didn’t ask for any other details.”

“I’m glad to know that your advisors think of me as the best attorney to handle your case.” Carrie looked down to the proposal she had printed in front of her. “I was told I was working a divorce case, nothing else specific.” She took a drink of her water, pressing her teeth together as she swallowed. “Why didn’t you have these people looking out for you at that party? I swear to God I thought they were about to kill me.”

“They were there, I don’t know how you and your boyfriend got into that room.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, thanks for the generalization.” Carrie wanted to roll her eyes, but kept her gaze on Harrison. She was tempted to run off, or to shut her mouth entirely, but stayed in her position. “Besides, your Secret Service aren’t that great at their jobs.”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Harrison took a drink of the water that had already been placed at the table. 

“You’re one to talk.” Carrie took a sip of her water as well. “I’m here to hear about your divorce, so tell me what it’s about.” 

“I want to know what you’ve been doing the last six years. How’d you graduate this fast? Did you even go to law school?” 

“I did a 3-3 degree back at Columbia. You told me my career was over, so I decided to start it.” Carrie tugged on her lip. She felt her cheeks grow hot, receiving the urge to crawl under the table to hide. _Such a stupid answer._ “But I’m here to be an attorney, I need to know what’s happening with you.” 

“I’m fed up with my marriage and my wife won’t divorce me unless I go to court. And as the President of the United States I need to have an attorney or else I’ll look like a phony during the election year.” Harrison scrunched his nose. 

“I’ve helped you win once, I can help you out again.” Carrie felt her knee hit the table, not realizing that her legs were shaking until then. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I didn’t exactly expect to see you today. I don’t have the fondest memories of you either.” Carrie tried to smile. “But that’s okay. We’ll have to see each other a lot for this.” 

“The last thing that you said to me was that you loved me. What’d I do wrong?” Harrison started to laugh but stopped as he saw Carrie’s face go blank, absent of a witty comeback or even a reply. 

“Can we forget about that? About everything? Just for now, so that we can get going with this.” Carrie took a notebook and pen from her purse, similar to what Harrison had in front of him, and began to recount her notes. “I need a reason on why you’re getting divorced. A solid one, not just that you’re unhappy.” 

“You’re not exactly the most convincing attorney, you should ask these questions nicer.”  
  
“I’ve known you since I was nineteen, I thought that I could be informal.” Carrie rolled her pen across the page. “Why are you… seeking divorce?”

“I’ve wanted to file for divorce since the summer of 2006. I was planning on running for president in 2008 and my wife was heavily against it. She didn’t want me to have any power, she wanted me to do what she wanted me to do, and I didn’t want to submit my autonomy to someone else. Eventually, as you know, I did set up my run against her wishes and encouraged her to be away when I was getting started. You and I both came to the conclusion that getting a divorce before running for president was a bad idea, but now that I’m here I have less to lose. I’m already the president, and I want a second term, and I have the support to win again, but at the same time I wouldn’t be crushed if this part of my life ended sooner than I’d originally hoped.” Harrison smiled. “Is that satisfactory?”

“Under D.C. law, the grounds for divorce are that you have not had sex with or lived with your current partner for at least six months. How long have the two of you been apart?” Carrie looked down to her notes, double-checking to see if what she had said was correct. It was as iff she could sense the years of studying erase from her memory, grains of sand spilling out of her ears and washing away. She had been great in class, and alright at mock trial, but nothing could have prepared her to speak to Harrison, knowing that even after knowing him for ages, he still made her nervous.  
  


“We haven’t been living together full time since April of last year. She has only been with me for conferences and appearances, and while in a legal standpoint she is living with me, she’s been living at our residence in Wyoming and traveling back and forth. She hasn’t spent the night at the White House since April, and we haven’t had sex either. If you need anyone to testify that we’ve been living apart you can ask the security that I have assigned to her, since you think that they’re so incompetent.” 

“I said that they just weren’t keeping a watch on your surroundings. But it sounds like there’s absolutely nothing to do in Wyoming, so they should’ve been watching the spices she put into her eggs in the morning as their only source of entertainment.” Carrie ran her pen down the list, crossing off what she had already learned. 

“I wish that you and I could talk to each other like normal people,” Harrison swallowed down half of the water in his glass. “You have every right to be mad at me. I get it. I was an ass, and I said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have. I just want to catch up with you, and for both of us to share what’s been going on in our lives, and instead you’re shutting down every word I say and are just asking for answers. Fuck it, let’s just get on with this. Enough about me, I’ll let you do your job, I’m tired of talking.”

“It’s my job to get these answers. I’m handling my first ever case, mind you, and this case just so happens to be yours, which is major.” Carrie stuffed her notes back into her bag, resting her head in one of her fists. “But if you want to know what I’ve been doing I can tell you. The last time you saw me I was twenty, and this October I’m turning twenty-six. I live in a four-bedroom rental on the opposite side of the city. Mark and Jennifer live with me and we’re still friends from college.” 

“You’re turning twenty-six, good God I feel old,” Harrison huffed, biting his lip. “And you’ve already got two degrees. How the fuck did you do that?”

“You’re asking me? I don’t know how I did this either.” Carrie shrugged, not wanting to delve into how hard that she had struggled.

“What happened after I left? You know, immediately after.” Harrison asked, playing with the edge of the napkin on the table. 

“I didn’t think that part would be of interest.” Carrie sighed. She cracked her knuckles, clicking a pen open and closed with her thumb and index finger. “I ended up having a daughter, she’s turning five in two days. Her name’s Sara.” She smiled a toothless grin, shaking her head. “Obviously, I didn’t follow any advice that you gave me. But because of that, I haven’t talked to my mother since December of 2006, nor have I talked to the rest of my family or Paul.” 

Carrie cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips while she waited for Harrison to speak. “That’s it, really. I haven’t done anything special. I’ve just gone to school and worked. I worked at a teen clothing store for a few years and worked my way up to being a manager, and that was Hell.”

“Do you need money?”  
  


“I’m not an escort. You didn’t invite me here to give me money for my life.” 

“No, I’m asking, genuinely. Rentals get more expensive as more people move here, you’re just out of six consecutive years of schooling, and you have a kid.” Harrison fixed the clip on his tie. “Are you stable?”  
  


“In what way? My life tends to drive me fucking crazy, but my money is alright. I don’t have any spending money, but I can pay for what I need. My student loan repayments haven’t kicked in yet, and when they do I should have already finished your case.” 

“Why didn’t you ever reach out to me again?”

“What, did you actually miss me? I tried to send you letters but I guess that they never found their way to you. I spent four or five years resenting you, not because of what you said to me when you left but because I never got closure in the first place. You were the first person that I ever fell in love with and I didn’t articulate that correctly.” Carrie paused, playing with the hem of her blouse. “I don’t know what I’m saying now, really.” 

Harrison swallowed the words that he planned to say, watching Carrie fidget with her clothing and waving their waiter away. The skin on her chest raised, fine hairs perking up from her goosebumps. Carrie tapped her finger on the table, grinding her teeth together. 

“I’m afraid too.” Harrison watched Carrie face him again as he started to speak. “I didn’t think that I would see you here today either. I’ve spent a while now playing back our time together in my head. And I don’t want to, but I do. You don’t have to be my attorney, I can find someone else on my own terms. I can understand if you don’t want to speak to me, I don’t want to talk to you either without any planning going into it. You’re smart, you’re really damn smart, and you understand me, you get me, and no one else has ever done that since I met you.” 

“I know,” Carrie said as she inhaled, taking a deep breath and letting it go. “And I’m not saying that to be condescending. That’s why I don’t want to be here. I’ve spent six years of my life avoiding you, and here I am seeing you twice in the span of four days. I think about you a lot, too. More than I should. You changed my life, in more ways than one. You’ve done so much to me that you don’t even know about. You reached out on a limb and took a chance on me, no one had ever done that before. I led you into being the President of the United States, which is one of my crowning achievements, being a part of that. And it’s been crazy seeing you grow into a leader, a world leader at that, because even though I knew you were capable, you were just an attorney turned into a professor. I wish that I could tell you how I feel about you and why I do, but it all falls back on my own faults.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal, that’s all behind you now. Look at everything you’ve done, I haven’t done shit compared to that.” Harrison laughed. “You never did anything that you should feel guilty for.” Harrison reached across the table, taking Carrie’s hand into his own. 

She looked down to his knuckles, first moving her hand up to take it away, but deciding to interlace their fingers, rubbing her thumb on the palm of Harrison’s hand. 

“No, I have. Y’know, I broke up with my boyfriend to be with you. I didn’t love him, we were fucked from the get-go, but he was the only person who took care of me from middle school to the day that I met you.” Carrie started to trail off, but she felt her voice getting softer and bit her tongue. 

“I essentially did the same thing, though, you can’t be mad at yourself when you know I did the same.” Harrison’s lips moved to the side as he began to shrug. “I don’t get why you stopped talking to him. I know you broke up but you have a daughter with him. I think that she’s warranted to see her father.” 

“That’s what I feel the worst about.” Carrie felt her eyes begin to twitch, swallowing hard to keep herself afloat. She shook her head, bobbing it back and forth, clenching her fists to stay calm and think rationally. “I think of my failures as a mother every day.”

“She deserves to have a father and to see him. We both deserve to have that support and to have a coherent family bond. I know I said that I don’t struggle with money but I do, there’s so many things that she deserves to have and experiences she should partake in that I don’t have the money for. I don’t want her to grow up loathing her father for him not being there like I do. I didn’t have a dad growing up and that ruined a lot of things for me.” 

“If you know what you did wrong and you don’t want her life to be the same as yours, why don’t you do anything about it?”

“Because I can’t. I can’t do anything about it because it’s too late. I had my chance to change it but I was too afraid of ruining things further.” 

“Call him and tell him that you want him to be there for her,” Harrison stated. “From what you told me about him years ago he sounds like a prick, but it’s worth a shot.” 

“It’s not that simple. I’m not going to talk to Paul, and it isn’t because I’m mad at him or because we broke up, it’s because he isn’t the man that’s my child’s father.” Carrie let go of Harrison’s hand and rest both of her elbows onto the table. She stopped herself from saying anything else, wondering if she had been too upfront, too obvious. Carrie knew that later she could laugh about this, that she would be sitting on her bed with Jennifer retelling this story that night, but in the moment she was too afraid to say anything else, knowing that if she weren’t playing with her own life, she was definitely playing with her child’s. Pursing her lips together, she forced out words, forcing herself not to cover her face with her palms. 

“You were the only man that I had ever had sex with. I knew that she was yours from the day I found out. The reason that I told you differently was because I was afraid of how you would react, because I knew that you didn’t want to be a parent and that your campaign was taking off. I couldn’t contact you because of who you were. I sent letters to your new house, sorry for my sleuthing skills, and I never got a reply. I mean, once you’re President you don’t read shit anymore, so I couldn’t reach you there. And in all honesty, I still didn’t want to tell you, and even now I don’t, because you’re going to be mad at me for not telling you years ago.” 

Carrie placed her fingers beneath her eyes, finally letting her eyelids shut, feeling her eyes warm and her tears fall into her cheeks, her fingertips unable to mop them away. “My daughter is ours, her life is ours.” She continued to speak, her voice caught between full volume and cracking. “She lives with me and my college roommates in a shitty rental when she could be living in luxury with you. I wouldn’t have to worry about if I were going to be able to pay her school fees for this coming fall, she’d be going to a high-end private school or be taught at home. I wouldn’t have to worry about clothing, or being able to buy enough food to make two plates. I wouldn’t feel guilty about my friends taking their days off to watch her while I do my work. If I would’ve fucking told you and gotten this out of the way all that time ago she would have a father. I try to give her everything I can but I can never give her you. I feel like shit every day for that. I go to bed thinking about how much would be different for her if she had a second parent. I’ve accepted my place in life and all of my mistakes, but I can’t forgive myself for screwing up part of life for her.” 

Carrie let her hands fully cover her eyes, hiding from Harrison just as she had for the past six years. She did not want to see his face, she didn’t want to see his brows furrow or for his mouth to open. Harrison’s reaction was something she had always hid from, masking her own initial announcement in a form that angered him but didn’t tell her how he would really feel. 

She opened her eyes, only staring into the shadows of her palms. Her life could have and should have been different. “I know that everything you said was probably just out of shock or to protect me, but it fucking hurts to think about it. I already knew that she wasn't going to grow up with a father and I had started to accept that, knowing that even though that happened to me and I never wanted the same pain inflicted upon my child. But, to know that before she was even born or ever really thought of by me, because, y'know, I didn't know want to think about this for the first few weeks, and I shouldn't have had to know, you already made it clear that you didn't want me to have a child, and if I had told you that day I'm afraid that it could have and would have been worse. It's one thing for a parent to leave you a few years into your life and to know that there was a time when you were loved and they wanted you to be their kid, but knowing that before she was even born that you probably would have wanted nothing to do with her was the worst feeling that I ever felt, and I feel it every day.”

“Carrie, look at me,” Harrison spoke low, waiting for Carrie herself to uncover herself before saying anything else. 

“How can I look at your face right now without wanting to walk away? I feel like a fool.” 

“You’re not a fool. You have the eyes of a doe but the balls of a samurai. I don’t know how you make it through life but you do.” Harrison reached back over to her and stroked his fingers on Carrie’s arm. “I want to see you, I want to talk to you and let you know I’m being serious.” 

  
  


Carrie blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes and taking out a compact from her purse. “I look horrible,” she started laughing, shutting the compact almost immediately but then opening it back up, laughing again as she saw the mascara from her eyes still dripping down her face. “I look scary right now. And if you’re using that line to get me to talk to you, you should try a little harder. ‘Balls of a samurai.’ Yeah, right. That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard

“Scary or not, I need you to know that if you want me in your life, more specifically the life of our daughter, I need you to know that I’ll do what it takes so that I can be there. This is new to me, you know I’ve never done this before, I’ve never been a parent. I’ve been a father, but I didn’t know that I was until today, and I’ve been an absent father at best.” Harrison took his napkin from his lap and dipped it into his water, handing it to Carrie to fix her makeup with. “I’m not going to know what to do at all, so stick with me in the learning curve, but I can tell you that from this moment forward I’ll be in her life if you think I should be.”

“You took that better than I did,” Carrie ran the napkin beneath her eyes, seeing nothing come off onto the white fabric.

“I don’t think I did. I don’t know how I’m going to manage this or adjust to it. My stomach’s going at a rate of a thousand flips per minute right now.” Harrison ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m ready for you to be in my life again. Not in the same capacity as beforehand, because no matter what happens that’s not ending well, but I want you to work for me, to be my attorney and to handle this divorce. I’ll handle what you need me to handle in your life, too. I guess I should’ve said this from the start, but you’re allowed to deny me as your client to defend. It’s your choice on this one.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.” Carrie reached back for her notepad, her hand soon abandoning it as another thought came to her. “I want to go home and fix my makeup, change into something less formal, then if you want, I'll come to your house to talk to you about your case tonight. I think we’ve done enough talking for right now, even though we didn’t get hardly any of our work out of the way.” 

“I’ll make sure that you're cleared to come in.” Harrison made a note on the paper that he still had in front of himself. “I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t confide in me beforehand.” 

“Thanks.” Carrie said as she stood up from her chair. “And I’ll be there tonight to work, not to talk to you about my life. Don’t ask for anything more, I think we’ve covered all the bases.” 

⇣

Tilting her head to the left, Carrie threw another t-shirt over her shoulder. She stood in front of her closet, turning each of her coat hangers to observe what was on them, either ignoring them in disgust or fully tossing the articles of clothing away. Her body felt heavy from the stress of the day, the sun still hanging high in the sky. She wanted to look presentable when she went to see Harrison again, though at the same time remembering the times that he had seen her in sweats and sandals years ago. 

Carrie settled on a pair of jeans, noticing that the tag predated her time in college and pulled them on anyways, and a plain t-shirt from her chest of drawers. The majority of her clothes were still packed away in cardboard boxes, not coming out anytime soon. She laughed at her face once again, looking into her mirror and taking the last makeup wipe in her package to wipe off her mascara, scrubbing away at her eyes with every inch of the cloth, Jennifer having used up almost the entire package a few nights before. 

Her phone buzzed beside her, vibrating on the hardwood of her desk. Carrie turned it over, continuing to remove the makeup staining her face. She rubbed on her foundation with her fingertips, haphazardly blending as she heard her phone again. 

“Hello?” Carrie answered. 

“How was it?” Jennifer asked from across the phone line. “You did perfect, I know it.” 

“Well,” Carrie exhaled, trying to phrase her thoughts. “All I can say is that it could have gone worse. We didn’t talk much about the case, actually. It’s a plain divorce case, nothing extraordinary. I was expecting something interesting.”

“Come on, I’m sure you did fine. You couldn’t be a bad attorney if you tried.”

“I said that it could have gone worse, not that it was horrible. I don’t know, it was odd. I’ll have to tell you more about it tomorrow. I’m going over to the guy’s house to talk about the case with him since we got close to nothing accomplished over lunch.” Carrie took one last look into her mirror, taking a blush compact and powdering it onto her cheeks. She placed her bag onto her shoulder and grabbed her keys with her empty hand. “I’ll probably cry to you about this later, I fucking bawled at lunch today.” 

“Alright, sure you did. And I forbid you from going to this man’s house. You’ve done both of these things before, college was a fun time.”

“Let’s not talk anymore about Harrison right now than we need to.” Carrie rolled her eyes as she walked out of the house, smiling at the sunny weather and barely feeling herself step into a puddle from the rain that weekend. “We’ll talk about him soon enough.” 

“Does this guy at least look like him?”

“Yeah,” Carrie laughed, almost hanging up early. “You’ll see, don’t worry.” 

She opened the door to the car, once again inserting the keys to the ignition, starting the car and slumping back in her seat. Carrie ran her palms over the steering wheel, calming herself down. She removed her bag from her shoulder, placing it into the passenger’s seat. The radio was still on from that morning, now playing an overplayed single. Carrie turned the radio down and in turn maxed out the air conditioning, backing out of the driveway and rolling her neck. It would take thirty minutes to get to Harrison’s, a timespan that Carrie was unfazed by. The White House was a landmark that she had never visited before. She had driven past the building a few times, even walking past it with Sara on a day she had off from work, but she had never been inside, and neither had most Americans. 

Harrison had forgotten to give Carrie any instructions on where to park and how to go inside. His lax security for the past two times that she had encountered him was unlikely to be in place again, and she didn’t know how to approach Secret Service in a manner that didn’t give off the impression that she was batshit crazy. 

Carrie pulled her car into a parking spot nearby, trying her best to succeed at parallel parking. She shot a quick text to Jennifer saying that she would be home late and to let Mark know, that way neither of the two would worry for her safety. A bullet of lipstick sat in the cupholder and Carrie screwed off the cap, closing her eyes to say a silent prayer that it hadn’t melted by sitting in the car. She slid on the lipstick quickly, supposing that it looked alright and stepped out of the car. Her bag still sat in the passenger’s seat, herself almost forgetting but grabbing it on her way past the parking meter. 

She took a deep breath and walked up to the gates, holding back a chuckle as she opened her mouth to speak to one of the guards. 

“We know who you are, don’t worry.” One of the men patted her back and walked her away from the crowd of tourists outside the gates, guiding her around the block to a side entrance. The same man walked her through a security screening, asking her to remove her bag, one of the workers confiscating her compact. Carrie turned to say something, physically biting her tongue between her molars so that words would refuse to fall out. 

She was handed a pamphlet that she could only contextualize as a free map for tourists, the Oval Office circled in an orange highlighter. “I’m guessing that’s where I need to be,” Carrie folded the map in half before inserting it into her purse. “Can I have that in there, or is that a safety hazard?”

The guard who had walked her inside stood still, unamused, waiting for her to speak again. 

“I’m kidding, don’t sweat it.” Carrie walked away and took out the map again, following the hallways and into a grand stairway. She traced the stairs with her vision, waiting for someone to appear from the top to tell her not to move any further than she already had, but no one came. 

She held onto the railing and walked up the stairs slowly, her footsteps light in an attempt not to tread any dirt onto the elaborate carpeting. Once she had, carefully, made her way up the staircase, Carrie leaned against one of the walls of the building to reread the map, studying the different rooms in the case that she would ever have to enter one of them. The Oval Office was behind the door in front of her, nothing marking it as that area other than her map. Carrie walked forwards, knocking once, and then twice. 

“Come in.” Carrie heard Harrison’s voice from the other side, slowly becoming louder as he ended his sentence. 

Carrie twisted the doorknob to walk inside, furrowing her brows as she closed the door behind herself and took a look around. “I didn’t think that it was going to look exactly as it does in the movies.” 

She hung her bag onto a coat rack and walked up to Harrison’s desk, placing her palms onto the wood and watching over him finish filling out a paper. Harrison looked up to her and smiled, finishing the sentence that he was writing and filing the document away. 

“I didn’t think that it would either, but here I am. You know, I was allowed to furnish it in my taste, but I kind of like the whole atmosphere of this. Reagan had this decor, Monica Lewinsky was here, the list goes on of amazing people.” 

“Reagan sucked, but sure.” Carrie pulled over a chair that she had noticed beside one of the windows. “Not that she didn’t.”

“What is there for us to talk about other than that bombshell that you dropped on me at lunch today?” 

“Do you want custody or not? I’ll have to take you to court a second time for that one.”

“Can you stop joking? Just for a second. I want to talk about my case, but I need to talk about us for the sake of my sanity.” Harrison relaxed into his chair. “You can’t tell me that I have a five-year-old daughter with you that I never knew about and then a few hours later act as if nothing ever happened. Will you at least help me in processing this?” 

Carrie fell silent, crossing her legs and clasping her hands together as she sat down in front of Harrison. “You already know why I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if there’s much more that there is to find out. I’ve never thought of you being in her life, or even as much as me confessing it to her, so this is new for me as well.” 

“Then let’s wear off the shine and make it less new.” 

“I told you that I was here to talk about your case. We have to get work done. I can’t talk about my life forever.” Carrie rubbed her fingertips together. 

“Our child was only in your life until you decided to tell me about her. I don’t know how you can try to keep me out of her life after telling me how much you regret not having me there for what has been almost her first five years of life.” 

“Fine.” Carrie stood up and grabbed her bag from the coat rack, bringing it over to Harrison and pulling her chair beside him. She pulled out her wallet and opened its folds. “Here’s a photo of us the day I passed the bar and moved to D.C. It’s my two proudest accomplishments in one. And I don't even like my job, but that test is so hard, I'm surprised that I even walked into the testing room.” 

Harrison took the photo from Carrie’s hands, carefully holding it by the edges. “She’s got my mom’s hair.” He looked at the waves of Sara’s hair, wavy enough to carry to her bangs. 

“That’s where that comes from!” Carrie laughed, looking over Harrison’s shoulder. “I swear that I was talking about that with Mark yesterday.” 

“Other than that, she looks just like you.” Harrison bit in his bottom lip, forgetting what else that he was going to say. “She’s got your eyes, and your lips, and your cheeks. God, she looks just like you.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” 

“I just can’t believe that you’ve done all of this. You went from someone who didn’t care about schooling and went through life as it came to someone who’s created not only a successful life for yourself, but you created the life of someone else entirely.” Harrison kept staring down at the photo. “She’s lucky to have you as a mother.” 

“Thanks,” Carrie smiled, resting her chin onto Harrison’s shoulder and taking out another photo from her wallet, this time a copy of the picture she had taken of Mark and Sara the day she was born. “This picture’s almost five years old, it’s tattered and it’s on the verge of ripping, but I’ll always keep it with me.” 

“I missed out on so much. I didn’t get to see her grow into a toddler or a child. That’s what I’ve been thinking about all day, how I didn’t see any milestones.” 

“You’ve accepted this father shit way too fast. Slow down, you’ve not even met her yet.” Carrie continued to hold the photo, not letting Harrison feel how fragile it was. 

“I don’t have to meet someone to know that I should have been there for them. How did you do any of this?” Harrison handed the first photo back to Carrie and watched her tuck both of them into her wallet, slipping it back into her bag. 

“The guy in the photo is one of my roommates. We dated for the last few months that I was pregnant, and I don’t know if it was because I thought I needed someone or if I was going crazy, but it obviously didn’t work out in the end. He and I are still best friends, he’s Mark, I know I’ve talked to you about him in the past. He and Jennifer helped me out a lot. Jennifer came from money so she got us all an apartment further uptown. We all worked jobs and took our classes strategically so that Sara’d never have to be babysat by someone we didn’t know. I took out the loans for summer terms and got into a 3-3 program, then I survived my first year of law school by quitting work and paying for my life off of my student loans. I didn’t think that it took a village to raise a child until I had one. Don’t worry too much about not being there, being a parent’s a lifelong deal, and the village never moves away.” 

“Carrie, how stressed are you?” Harrison said. 

“I’ve considered buying stock in RedBull on multiple occasions if that gives you an idea.” She laughed and slung her bag onto one of the knobs of Harrison’s desks. 

“When I asked how you handle everything, I didn’t want a detailed account. I wanted to know how you are.” Harrison wrapped his arm around her back. “I’m sorry that I was so rude to you beforehand. It’s because I care about you and I didn’t want you to end up in a situation that you couldn’t dig yourself out of. And I know now that I underestimated your strength and that I came off as an asshole. There are times when I think about how one of the last things that you said to me was that you loved me, and I feel guilty for everything that I did. I was a dick, and I don’t know how to apologize.” 

“I know. I know that you meant well, but that doesn’t take away the pain that I felt. I want to talk to you about myself and about my life, but I’m not as much of an open book as I used to be. I was mature enough to consent to you and to want to be with you when we first met, but now I’m mature enough to have boundaries. Tell me about you, about your life, and more specifically about your case,” Carrie coughed. “Let me know that I can trust you, then I’ll let you meet our daughter and be her father.”

“If I’m not good enough for you, how can I be enough for both of you?”

“Alright George Michael, calm down.” Carrie took her notebook from her bag and felt Harrison move his hand away from her back. “No, keep it there. I trust you enough that I want your company. I’m not distancing myself away from you.” 

Harrison drew his hand back to Carrie’s shoulders, pulling her closer to him, both of their chairs on wheels. “Look at the room we’re in. Look at this suit I’ve got on, the flag on the lapel, the bills waiting for a yes or a veto on my desk, the title on my nameplate. You want to know my journey of getting here and keeping my momentum, but the only reason I’m here in the first place is because of you.” 

“I knew you were winning anyway, you’ve got a way with words.” Carrie smiled, opening one of Harrison’s drawers and seeing papers similar to the ones that they used to spend hours on. “Who helped you file to run again?” 

“No one did, I did it alone.” Harrison closed the drawer that Carrie had opened. “I didn’t want to compare my new assistant to you.” 

“All I did was sign things and sleep with you,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t that special.” 

“I spent years missing you, that’s why.” Harrison ignored what Carrie had said in reply. 

“I’ve missed you too. Other than Mark, I’ve not dated anyone else. I’ve slept around a few times, but I haven’t wanted to become attracted to someone else because I knew that I would compare them to you.” Carrie took one of Harrison’s hands into her own. “But we can’t be together. It’s not going to work out. You’re pinning for me in the same way that I pinned for you, and I want to be with you but I’m not going to be, no matter how hard it may be that you try. I’ve got a busy life, I’ve got so many responsibilities. And even though she’s never known us together, if we broke up then it’d be like Sara’s parents getting a divorce. I’m not going to let my life revolve around a man for the second time. I poured all of my energy into you and I didn’t end up in the brightest of places. I love it when you talk about missing me and wanting us to be something again, but you know that my only purpose here is to get you through your divorce. That’s all that I can promise you.” 

“Okay. I have all of the documents that you could possibly need put together in a file. I’ve got a digital copy and a hardcopy.” Harrison pulled himself away from Carrie, taking a manila folder from a desk drawer. “Where do you want to start?” 

⇣

Carrie traced her footsteps down the stairwell, periodically glancing down to her map and guiding herself out of the White House. She kept her phone’s flashlight shining, wondering if the building was even darker than the sky outside. Harrison had kept her there until the early hours of the morning, the two of them filling out paperwork and cutting jokes, getting closer but never too close. Eventually finding her way to the entrance for which she came, Carrie shuffled her hand around on a table near the security system, stealing back her compact and quickly tossing it into her bag, gently walking away to not bring any attention to herself. The same guard that she had met beforehand met her outside on the lawn, walking her back through the gate and onto the sidewalks. 

Leaving Harrison’s loft in college felt like going back to ordinary life, and so did leaving the White House. Harrison had charisma, a smile and a voice that could fill a room, and the rest of the world was empty without that presence. Carrie ran her fingers through her hair, pulling herself back into reality as she walked towards her car. She placed each of her keys into the knuckles of her free hand, alert of her surroundings, knowing that she was alone and that the last time she had checked her phone it was steadily approaching 3 A.M. 

She unlocked the car and sat down inside, taking a deep breath and turning on the engine. Carrie massaged her temples, still fighting against her disbelief that the day had even happened. Her right foot pressed in the brake pedal as she moved the gearshift out of park and into reverse, feeling her wheels turn a few inches then lock in place, the sound of metal scratching the inner workings of her car. She moved the car back into park, stepping out to assess what was happening. 

A large yellow boot sat on her two left tires, the metal rubbing against both the tires and the metal of the car right above them. Carrie glanced over to the parking meter, remembering that she had never fed it any coins. She had the urge to kick in her front tire, wanting to try anything that she thought might work, but saw the dent from that morning and decided not to inflict any more damage. 

Carrie climbed back into the vehicle, contemplating spending the night in the backseat, knowing that a picnic blanket sat in the trunk. Jennifer had worked all day, and if Carrie knew her well enough then she could make the educated guess that she either had her phone silenced from her fatigue or she was asleep at Patrick’s place. Carrie took her own phone out of her pocket and searched her speed dial list, unable to blow off the commitment of being there to pick up Sara before noon. She called Mark, letting the phone ring once, twice, thrice, and then to voicemail. Carrie neglected to leave a message, sighing and setting an alarm to wake up at seven. The taxis would begin to run at eight, and she could take a nap in the backseat until then. 

Carrie wrapped the quilt around her body, curling her limbs to fit within the frame of the car. She heard her phone begin to vibrate, outstretching her arm in an uncomfortable position to take hold of it and answer. 

“Hey, sorry that I didn’t pick up immediately. I’m a bit busy right now.” Mark said into the phone, his breathing loud enough to hear through Carrie’s speakers. 

“Thank God you answered. The car got booted and I can’t get a cab home this late. I know that this is a huge favor, but will you come get me?” 

“Carrie,” Mark laughed. “I don’t know how fast I could get there. I’m in a situation myself. Can’t you just get the person you’ve been with to drive you home?”

“I was with Harrison for the past eight hours. I don’t want to see him anymore tonight.” Carrie wrapped the quilt tighter around herself. “Don’t ask where, don’t ask why. I’ll talk to you and Jennifer about it once the sun rises.” 

“What? You were with who?” Mark scoffed. “Well, I’m with someone right now too. I’ve got a girl over, so if you don’t mind her riding shotgun then I can come get you.” 

“Of course you do,” Carrie chuckled. “Tonight wasn’t a good night to be a player.” 

“Give me…, I don’t know, twenty minutes. Then I’ll leave the house and come pick you up.” 

“Twenty? So you’ve decided to actually give it all you’ve got tonight?”

“Shut up,” Mark laughed. “Text me where you are. I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you then.” 

Carrie heard Mark end the call and dropped her phone onto the floorboard. Looking to the car’s fabric ceiling, Carrie traced lines into it with her fingertips, distracting herself from the day’s events. 

It was as if she could still feel Harrison’s arm around her back, that it was his hand spread across the middle of her spine instead of the blanket being wrapped around her. She could feel his touch, his rough fingertips grabbing her palms, imagining the sensation of the scruff on his cheeks scratching her face. Intimacy was unfamiliar, and even platonic intimacy with Harrison made her remember the rest. Six years afterward she still knew the way that he knew every inch of her, not only of her body but her mind, of the person that she was when she first walked into adulthood. Carrie thought about how on her first day alone with Harrison she studied his features, the way his glasses fit his face. He hadn’t changed at all, spare the deepening of his wrinkles and grey hair on the nape of his neck. He was still the same Harrison, the same looks, even the same tie as the day she had said goodbye to him. 

Carrie rubbed her temples with her free hand, trying to erase the memories popping into her mind’s eye. She looked the same as well, only her face growing narrower and her frame filling out ever so slightly. Carrie didn’t feel the same, though, and she wondered if Harrison’s mind had changed as well. She didn’t want Harrison to hurt her again, but Harrison was almost begging for her to hurt him. 

She hummed to herself, digging her nails deeper into the fabric and having nothing happen except for the fibers touching her hands. Carrie began to draw her knees into her chest, waiting for Mark but also waiting for herself. 

After seeing Harrison on Friday night she was a mess, but after talking to him for hours she was more than fine. She remembered when she had cried, but forgot as soon as she recalled Harrison’s eyes when she showed him she and Sara’s photos. Carrie had seen him cry once before, even then only being a single tear, but she had never seen pain in his eyes, a pain that only she could notice.

Harrison ran his fingers over the photograph that Carrie had let him touch, quickly abandoning only holding the sides. Carrie wanted to take it away, but let him hold it a little longer, watching his eyes begin to melt as he focused on their daughter. She had seen Sara every day of her life and had been with her since the very beginning of her existence, but Harrison had survived five years without acknowledging her or knowing that she was his child as well. 

Mark texted Carrie to let her know he was almost there, Carrie turning her phone off and placing it beside herself. She pulled the blanket tighter, not knowing if it was because she was cold or because of Harrison. 

Carrie looked up to the window, watching the leaves rustle on tree branches. She felt for the sleep in her eyes, rubbing it out and sighing. She rolled her ankles, hearing them pop. Resting her eyes, Carrie could sense her body falling into sleep, the warmth of her covering encasing her and the darkness from outside tempting her to rest. She began to drift off, clutching onto the blanket with her fists, pretending that it was not a blanket and instead someone else. 

The sound of knuckles hitting the window woke Carrie up, shooting herself up from the seats and gripping her phone in her hand, ready to use it against anyone. Mark laughed outside of the car, loud enough for Carrie to hear inside. She rolled down the window, groaning. 

“You son of a bitch,” Carrie shook her hand at him, her phone still fixed between her fingers. “I thought someone was trying to murder me.”

“And that’s your weapon? Your iPhone 4?” 

“What else is in this? Jennifer drives me everywhere, all I would have other than this would be some tap shoes.”

“Come on, get out.” Mark opened the door as Carrie unlocked it. “My date’s in the front seat, so if you want then you can crawl into the back and continue your nap.” 

“Thanks for doing this.” Carrie grabbed her bag and quilt before stepping out of the car. “I know it’s late, and I should’ve remembered to feed the meter, but I’ve had a really weird day. I just want to go home and sleep, then get Sara in the morning and spend the day with her and pretend like none of this day ever happened.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Preferably not, I need to talk to Jennifer about it first seeing as she’s part of all this.” Carrie took down her hair and let it fall into her face. “When she and I went to a party on Friday night, I saw Harrison there. I went home and I freaked out about it. Then today I found out that he’s the person I’m working for. I don’t know, maybe it was because I was already a bundle of emotions, but I told him a little bit about how I feel, and then I told him that he’s Sara’s father. He took it better than I thought, but now he just wants to know everything and I don’t plan on ever opening myself up like that to a man again. This is just the cliff notes of what happened, I’ll let Jennifer know the rest of it.”

“He knows now?”

“I wish that he didn’t. Fuck it, I’ll just delve into the heart of this.” Carrie continued walking along the sidewalk with Mark, approaching his car parked along the curb, almost a block into the distance. “I cried when I told him and he comforted me and held my hand and it was… nice? I don’t know. I wasn’t upset about us sharing intimacy. But I’ve spent the past five years of my life mad at him, so I don’t know how to cope with wanting to be back in his company.” 

“You wanted that the whole time,” Mark smiled, wrapping his arm around Carrie and pulling her in as a breeze came through. “No one would talk about someone as much as you talk about Harrison unless you were in love.”

“I’m not in love. I know what love is and this isn’t it.” 

“Harrison is how you know what love is.”

“Shut up and listen to me, will you? I know myself. I know my feelings.” Carrie huffed, swatting Mark on the side of his ribs. “I need to think about him, and about how he fits into my life, especially our daughter’s. I don’t want her to hate me for not telling her, or not giving her a lavish life with the President.” 

“It’s four in the morning, you’re not thinking straight.” Mark unlocked his car and Carrie laid down in the backseat. “But, before you sleep this off, this is the person that I’ve been seeing. Carrie, meet Peyton.” 

Peyton turned around to face Carrie, her hair falling onto her shoulders as she smiled. “You’re his roommate, right?” 

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since I was 19. I’m turning 26 this fall.” 

“He’s said so much about you. Mark admires you a lot, you’ve taught him so many things.” Peyton spoke as Mark began to laugh. 

“Of course I have, he’s always been a bit of a halfwit.” 

“Sure I have,” Mark began to pull out of his parking space. “You’ve made some unruly decisions yourself.” 

“It’s been horrible finding a time to come over, Mark’s been keeping me a secret from you and Jennifer for weeks now.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “Is there anything you can think of for that?” 

“Jennifer and I are insane together, and I’ve got a daughter running the house.” 

“The reason I don’t want you over is that I didn’t know if they would want someone that they didn’t know spending the night and barging in on their space.” 

“Whatever you’re doing here, just make good decisions. If you’re cheating on someone else with Mark, don’t. I had this three-month affair in college and that’s followed me forever. That’s why I had to get picked up by Mark so late tonight.” 

“I’m faithful to him, and only to him. Isn’t that right?” Peyton leaned in for a kiss, Mark turning his head as well.

“If we crash you’re paying for my insurance since you’ve seduced my roommate into taking his eyes off the road.” Carrie joked, sinking further into the seats and covering herself up. 

“Goodnight, Carrie.” Mark sighed, taking Peyton’s hand and holding it on the center console. 

⇣

Rolling over beneath her bed linen, Carrie massaged her hand muscles, still aching after hours of filling papers out with Harrison the night before. She hadn’t remembered that from college, knowing well that then she was only focused upon Harrison himself. Carrie reached over for her alarm clock to check the time, noting that she still had thirty minutes left to lay in bed, not needing to get ready and leave until ten. 

She thought about how Harrison was an early riser, how he was most likely already at his desk for a morning briefing, his coffee chugged hours before and reports finished. Carrie’s life was minuscule compared to Harrison’s, her job was being a divorce attorney while Harrison led the free world. 

Carrie balled her sheets in her hands, using the pressure to distract herself from thinking of Harrison, but in turn, it did the opposite. She wanted to get him out of her head, a feat that she hadn’t even begun to master in the five years that they had been away from each other. Jennifer had tiptoed home minutes after Carrie had finally fallen into bed, and Mark and Peyton were in their bedroom as well. Carrie ignored the fact that she didn’t have a car to use, knowing that she could take care of it by asking Mark for his keys at the very last minute. 

She was excited to see her daughter, although anxious after knowing that she had been away from home overnight. Sara was definitely still sleeping, one of the only features she had taken from her mother. Carrie didn’t understand Harrison’s words about Sara’s looks, how he compared her constantly to Carrie and pointed out their similar features. To Carrie, she was all him, almost a mirror image but in the form of a little girl, from the parting of her hair down to her squared toes. 

Carrie finally lifted her duvet off of herself, squinting as the bright light from the sun filled her room. Her curtains were still packed away, the sunlight from her windows almost blinding. She swung her feet onto the carpet, her heels aching from the dress shoes she had worn. The door to her closet was still open, revealing the slim picking of clothing that she hadn’t pulled off of the hangers in an act of distress. Carrie took a t-shirt and sweatpants off of a rack, slipping on her sandals and vowing to take a shower as soon as she returned. 

“Hey, lovebirds. I need the car keys.” Carrie popped her head into Mark’s room, watching Mark flip her off. “I’m not going to get your car booted, asshole.” Carrie returned the favor, placing Mark’s keys onto her middle finger after he had tossed them over. 

Mark drove a new Volkswagen, considerably nicer than the piece of metal that Carrie and Jennifer shared the pleasure of denting. Carrie had driven Mark’s car once, with him beside her, critiquing her every move, and she supposed that he had done a great enough job of backseat driving to let her drive a distance further than to the end of the neighborhood. 

Sara’s friend lived just outside of D.C. 's epicenter, the two of them set to attend an elementary school in the heart of it. Carrie had met her and her mother at an orientation meeting, making small talk that was large enough to recruit her to babysit if need be, forgetting her name right afterward. 

The radio in Mark’s car was tuned to Sirius, still running off the free trial that came with the car’s purchase. Carrie skimmed through the channels, falling on the nineties and turning the music up, bopping her head along until she approached the driveway that she was planning to park in. She honked the horn twice, signaling that she had arrived, and watched as Sara peeked her head out of the home’s front window. Carrie smiled, laughing at her daughter and waving out of the car door. 

Carrie started to step out of Mark’s car but remained seated behind the wheel as Sara left the house on her own. She ran out to the car, opening the door handle and climbing into her seat, already positioned in the back. Carrie eventually did step out of the car, grabbing Sara’s bag and placing it into the trunk, stuffing it against the sides, Mark’s car not built for carrying cargo. 

She kneeled down beside the second door, opening it to fix Sara’s seatbelt and to see her after her night away. “Did you play doctor?” Carrie adjusted Sara’s seatbelt as she noticed the bandage on her chin. “You must not have been a very good patient to have that on your face.”

“I fell down yesterday.” Sara shrugged her shoulders, already fidgeting with the belt that Carrie had just positioned. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, though.” 

“What?” Carrie moved over the seat and sat in the middle, taking the bandage away from Sara’s skin. “No one called me about that. Where were you?” She removed the bandage, looking first at the white padding of gauze there, the blood already brown. Carrie ran her fingers beneath Sara’s chin, feeling the raised skin of a scar forming. 

“We were in the backyard, I just tripped on the sidewalk. I’m okay.” 

“You’re fine, but we still need to get it cleaned off.” Carrie huffed, clenching her jaw to keep herself from going inside and ratting out the mother. “It looks pretty deep, do you want me to put the bandage back on?” 

“No,” Sara smiled. “I told you I’m okay.” 

“Well, you’re much stronger than I am.” Carrie returned back to her driver’s seat, locking the doors and beginning to drive. “You’re not going back to her house. She can come to ours but I’m not leaving you there.”

Carrie started the ignition, turning down the music and driving with one hand, her left elbow resting on her window with her fist on her cheek. She continued to talk to her daughter and to watch her from the rear-view mirror, thinking about the fact that Sara looked even more familiar to Harrison now, and that she would have to work with him again in the coming days. 

“What kind of cake do you want for your birthday? I need to order it tonight.” 

“Vanilla with sprinkles.” Sara said, distracted by playing with the lace on her shirt. “Or blueberry.” 

“I don’t think that they make blueberry cakes,” Carrie laughed. “I can get you blue frosting, though.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Carrie continued to drive, rubbing her eyes and wanting to arrive home. She remained tired from the night before, getting up at six that day to drive Jennifer, and not coming home until after four that morning. Her eyes felt heavy, with her eyelids almost closing. She turned on her music louder and continued home, waiting to fall into bed. 

Upon arrival, Carrie tried to enter the house silently but the sound of setting Mark’s keys onto the table brought her roommates into the foyer. She glared across at them, waiting for someone to speak. 

“Hey, Woah, what happened there?” Mark picked up Sara, resting her onto his hip and examining her cut. “You okay?”

“Mark,” Carrie leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “I’ve already told you that-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that she’s too old to carry, but look! I’m curious about what happened, just let me ask a question.” Mark tilted up Sara’s head, moving the bandage off again. Carrie reached over his shoulder and took it for good, tossing it into the bin next to the stairwell. 

  
“She fell down in the backyard. No one called me, so she’s not going there again.”

“You know who she looks even more like now?” Jennifer winked, laughing as she took Carrie’s bag and hung it on a hook beside the doorway. 

“No shit.” 

“Alright, well look who’s talking.” Mark sat Sara down, staring at Carrie. 

“It’s been a rough twenty four hours, I should be allowed to swear without putting anything in the swear jar.” Carrie leaned down to hug her daughter, telling her to go up to her room. “All that you’ve done is had your sex interrupted at three in the morning, which even that in itself is an actual feat.”

“Where’ve I been for all of this?” Jennifer walked to the living room and threw herself back onto the sofa, waiting for Carrie and Mark to follow in suit. 

“I don’t know, you didn’t tell me what your plans were. But I had to have Mark pick me up from downtown because I got the car booted. Don’t worry, I’ll get it back somehow.” 

“Right, of course you did,” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “What were you doing downtown? Did we all have sex last night?”  
  


“I told Mark last night that you were probably with Patrick, so I suppose that my guess was correct.” Carrie laughed, sitting down beside Jennifer as Mark sat on the loveseat. “But no, I didn’t. Last night was amusing, not arousing.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Mark picked at his nails. “We know who you were with.”

“Obviously I don’t.” Jennifer leaned into Carrie, playing with her own hair. “Who’s the lucky man?”

“Okay so, here I was, thinking that I was about to go into that restaurant and have to bullshit my way through this case and deal with some boring old guy. I walk inside and there are guards asking my name, and I’m freaked out-”

“How is this relevant?”

“Stay with me,” Carrie patted Jennifer on the shoulder. “Anyways, so one of them guides me up to the second story of this restaurant that is completely empty spare us and a waiter. I’m sitting in a chair, doodling on my legal pad and waiting for whatever hick is going to walk up the stairs. _Harrison_ sits down in front of me, and I promptly begin to lose it. He’s asking me about my life and school and I’m trying to wrap my head around how my case manager has assigned me to him. Harrison told me about his wife and how he’s finally knocked some sense into himself and has decided to leave her. I told him about how I’ve been and how I finished school and he fucking asks about Paul! I haven’t seen him in six years, I don’t even know if he’s still alive at this point.”

“Still jealous?” Mark laughed, propping up a pillow behind himself. 

“No, he knows I broke up with Paul for him. He asked me about him because I said that he was Sara’s father, so I told him the truth. Long story short: I cry, he takes it surprisingly well, then I go home and change and go to the White House. You can’t make this shit up.” Carrie talked with her hands, holding her hand to her forehead before beginning again. “When I started talking to him in his office, you know, the Oval Office, I showed him photos of Sara from my wallet and I swear that was the only time that I have seen him show emotion before. He’s taking to this really well, which, I thought there was a snowball's chance in Hell that he’d even care. Harrison wants to get to know me again and see me more, and I don’t know how I should feel about that.”

“That’s your job, to talk to him.”

“No. My job is to be his attorney.” Carrie stood up from the couch. “I don’t want to open myself up to Harrison again. I’ve had to deal with his shadow over me for six years of my life, and while I appreciate what all he’s done for me, I don’t want to get caught up in him again. It’s not going to end well, and it’s probably not even going to start.” 

Carrie took her bag off of the hook Jennifer had wrapped its handles on and walked upstairs, peeking her head into Sara’s room and then stepping into her own. She closed her bedroom door, sliding her back down it and resting her head onto the wood. She twiddled her thumbs, watching the rain start again from her window. Carrie took off her shoes and tossed them beneath her bed, grinding her teeth and waiting to gain the motivation to get into bed. 

“Knock knock.” Jennifer pushed Carrie’s door open, moving Carrie’s weight out of the way. 

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, sorry.” 

“Just talk to me. I know you don’t want to talk about Harrison with Mark.” Jennifer sat down on Carrie’s bed, seeing her picnic blanket and furrowing her brows, dropping it from the bed and onto the floor. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to put it into words, but there’s been a lot of times when I’ve just needed to curl into someone’s arms and just be, and I need to be curled up with him. I sound pathetic, six fucking years after we met, five years apart. Do you ever just see someone, maybe it’s for the first time or maybe it’s the thousandth, but you realize that that’s the person that you want to be with? Not just be with but, to _be_ with. I’ve gone all these years not wanting to talk about him, and the second that I see him again I want to talk about him all the time. I know that I’m annoying about this and that I shouldn’t be interested in him, but it’s not lust, and I don’t think that it’s love, and if it is I don’t want to admit to it, but he’s so important to me, I can’t just let this be a one and done thing again.” Carrie sighed, looking up to Jennifer, defeated. “I don’t think that he wants this to be a one-time thing either. He was trying so hard to catch up with me and he wanted me to talk to him about my feelings towards him, good or bad. He knows that I tried to avoid him. He didn’t read any of the letters that I sent to him, he said they got lost in the mail or something, which I understand since I found his address on some shady site online.”

“I forgot about that! God, you were obsessed.” Jennifer laughed, outstretching her hands to Carrie. “Come here, lay down and just talk to me about it.” 

“I think what shocked me the most is not that he is the man that I’m working for, or that he was actually willing to talk to me, or that he’s finally getting his divorce, it’s that he wants to be a father and to be there for the two of us. I’ve appreciated you and Mark so much, but nothing would compare to having him here.” Carrie sat down beside Jennifer, smiling as Jennifer wrapped the entire duvet around her. “Every day I live with the guilt that she doesn’t have a father, and every day I know that if I had omitted just one sentence when I told Harrison I was pregnant six fucking years ago that she would have him. I feel guilty saying that, because I have the two of you and I’m surviving and he didn’t want kids at the time, but sometimes I want things that I know I can’t have.”

“Harrison wants you, though.” 

“Sure. And even if he did, it wouldn’t work.” Carrie laid back onto the bed, cracking her knuckles. 

“If it makes you feel better, I called around and figured out which company got the car. They towed it off today, I’ll go get it tomorrow. They’re not asking for any money since I begged them not to over the phone.” Jennifer smiled, turning on Carrie’s lamp and illuminating the room. “Get some rest, you’ve got another big day tomorrow.”

“I forgot I have to order Sara her cake,” Carrie pursed her lips. “Will you grab my phone from my bag for me?” 

“Will you order alcohol as well?” Jennifer tossed Carrie’s phone at her, landing on her stomach. “I’m not going through another children’s birthday party without something to drink.” 

“Why do you think that I drink in the first place?” Carrie laughed, dialing the bakery of their local grocery store. “But no, I’m not going to do that. There’s beer in the fridge if you’re that desperate.” 

“Are you ever going to tell her about Harrison?”

“I want them to meet, eventually. I’m just going to introduce him as my friend, and then if anything romantic happens between us then he’ll be her step-dad for the time that we’re together. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want her to have bad memories of a father who was absent for half of her childhood.” Carrie placed the call on hold to talk to Jennifer. “My dad left when I was ten or so, and I’ve resented him ever since. I don’t want her to have that sort of relationship with Harrison. I’d rather her just not know.” 

“But she’ll resent you if she finds out that you’ve lied to her.” 

“Don’t talk about that, please.” Carrie pleaded to Jennifer. “I don’t want to think about that right now.” 

Jennifer bit in her upper lip, almost exiting the room as she heard Carrie take the phone off hold. 

“Did you know that they need requests two weeks in advance? It’s a Kroger on the Maryland line, not some French-owned patisserie downtown.” 

“How early are we waking up to bake a cake tomorrow?” Jennifer turned around, leaning into Carrie’s door frame. 

“You’re not, I am. You can’t cook to save your life.” Carrie sighed. “Sara said she wanted a vanilla cake with sprinkles, and then her second choice was blueberry. And I was like, honey, they don’t make that, but I guess that I do now since I don’t have the excuse of a baker’s incompetence.”

“Just get some blueberry muffins and call it a day.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not lying to her on her birthday.” 

“But you’ll lie to her about her life every other day of the year. Got it.” Jennifer laughed, failing to land her joke. 

“Leave me alone. It’s not funny.” Carrie watched Jennifer leave, telling her to shut the door. 

⇣

Carrie removed the lights she had strung from the curtain rods, saying one last goodbye as Sara’s final friend left their home, putting their shoes on and racing out of the living room to meet with their parents outside. The party had been a success, Sara was happy with her cake and playing with her friends, while the adults persevered without becoming intoxicated. Meanwhile, the living room was a sight for sore eyes, plates littering the surroundings and pillows shoved off of couches to create a fort. Mark had run out to buy more cleaner, their supply of Windex almost gone, and Jennifer had resided to her bedroom to watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns. 

Carrie balled up the lights, placing them back into a plastic tub filled with Christmas decor. She watched as a black car pulled into the driveway, presumably Mark, and called upon Sara to open the door for him. She continued to clean up, tearing down paper streamers and wiping down the kitchen table with a damp washrag. When Sara finally opened the door, Carrie remained cleaning a room away. 

“What’s your name?” Carrie heard a familiar voice down the hall and abandoned her work, walking down the foyer to see two guards standing in the doorway, and a man kneeling down to Sara that could only be Harrison. 

Carrie stood beside the door, leaning against the wall, wallowing in her shock of Harrison’s arrival. 

“Sara.” Sara perked up, wrapping her arms around Harrison’s neck. “Who are you?” 

Carrie wanted to step in and lecture her daughter on why she shouldn’t talk to — or hug strangers, but she stayed watching Harrison and Sara’s interaction. 

“My name’s Harrison. I… I know your mom, we’re friends. She told me it was your birthday, so I didn’t want to miss it.” Harrison wrapped his arms around Sara in return, looking up to Carrie and sucking in his lips, his eyes watering. “How old are you?” 

Sara pulled herself out of Harrison’s arms and held up five fingers. “I’m five. How old are _you?_ ” 

“I’m going to be forty in a few days,” Harrison laughed. “I’m old.” 

“Yes, you are.” Sara smiled, going in for another hug. 

“She’s a little clingy,” Carrie said, biting her thumb and drawing her free hand up to dry her eyes. “I’m sorry it’s just a lot, seeing the two of you together.” 

“Are you okay?” Sara said to her mother, walking to her as Harrison stood up. “What happened?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just happy. Harrison and I are close friends, and I’m glad you’ve got to meet him.” Carrie’s lips wavered as she tried to collect herself. The glaze over Harrison’s eyes didn’t help. 

“Hey, kid, I got you something for your birthday. I’m not any good at buying gifts, but I got you a puzzle.” Harrison took the box from one of his handlers, giving it to Sara and letting her tear off the wrapping paper. “I hope you like it, and if you don’t, then don’t be afraid to tell me.” 

“No, she likes puzzles, a lot, actually.” Carrie felt Harrison wrap one of his arms around her back and she felt her body fit into his chest. They watched their daughter tear the paper off and open up the box together, Carrie holding a hand on Harrison’s abdomen. “You don’t know how much that this means to me. You only found out who she was two days ago, and now you’ve gone through the struggle of getting my address to come and see us.” 

“You know, the FBI works for me, so it wasn’t that difficult.” Harrison joked, holding Carrie tighter. “I could get used to this, having a family.”

“She fell down a few days ago, that’s why she’s got that bandage on her chin. If she keeps picking at it, which I hope she doesn’t, she’ll have the same scar that you do.” 

“Like father, like daughter.”

“Stop it, you’re going to make me cry again,” Carrie felt Harrison move his hand on the small of her back. “You didn’t have to do this. But you did. That means the world to me.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Harrison looked down at Carrie. She moved her head up so that their eyes would meet, staring at him. 

“Thank you.” Carrie barely licked her bottom lip before she looked away. 

“Will you help me put it together, Harrison?” Sara said, already walking over to the kitchen table. Harrison moved away from Carrie and followed Sara to the kitchen. 

“The coast is clear, you can wait for me outside. Don’t worry, I’m safe here.” Harrison nodded to his guards, watching as they walked to the car. He walked backward himself to see them leave, then turned around just as he caught Jennifer walking down the stairs. 

“What the fuck?” Jennifer stopped in her tracks, jetting her eyes back and forth between Carrie and Harrison. Carrie furrowed her brows, forgetting that Jennifer was home. “Fine,” Jennifer dug into her clutch. “Here’s a five, put it in the jar, because I know I’m going to swear four more times.” 

“You have a swear jar?”

“You’re in our house?” Jennifer walked down, sitting on the bottom step and buckling the straps on her heels. 

“Jennifer, meet Harrison. Harrison, meet Jennifer.” Carrie introduced the two. “Harrison came over on his own accord.” 

“Hi, I’m Jennifer.” Jennifer shook Harrison’s hand. “I’ve heard so many things about you.” 

“Good things, I hope?”

“Mostly,” Jennifer smiled. “I’m kidding, it’s fifty-fifty.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Carrie’s told me about you as well. You’re a great friend to her, thank you.”

“That makes my heart melt,” Jennifer thanked him. “I’m on my way out, but it was a pleasure to see you in person.” 

“Where’re you going?” Carrie whispered. 

“I’ve got on a short dress and some heels. I’m going to Patrick’s, he’s supposed to pick me up in a few minutes.” Jennifer whispered back. “Do you want me to tell Mark that Harrison’s here or do you want him to find out himself?” 

“I don’t care, do whatever. Just pray for my sanity.” Carrie hugged Jennifer goodbye. “Have fun, stay safe, _be safe!_ ” She watched as Jennifer waved then slammed the door. 

Harrison and Carrie walked into the kitchen, sitting down on either side of Sara at the table. “Does Mark not like me?” Harrison took a pocket knife from his pants to open the plastic bag containing the puzzle pieces. 

“I didn’t ever talk about you around him until it all blew up. He thinks you’re a total dillweed.” Carrie took the first two puzzle pieces she saw and fit them together to start the border. 

“A what?” 

“A dickhead, but mommy doesn’t want us to curse.” Sara piped up, continuing to spread the pieces across the table. 

“She’s definitely your daughter,” Harrison chuckled, watching Carrie roll her eyes. “You’re not going to make her not have the urge to swear. It’s in your genes, your favorite word to say is… fudge.” 

“Well, anyway,” Carrie sighed. “Mark doesn’t like you, but I think that when you eventually meet him the two of you’ll become friends.” 

“Did you meet Harrison in college?” Sara asked. 

“Yeah, he was in one of my classes.” Carrie nodded. She wasn’t lying. A professor is just as much in the classroom as a student. “We met after class on my first day of school.” 

“Then why isn’t he around like Mark and Jennifer?” 

“He and I lost contact with each other for a few years, but he can come around more if you want him to.” Carrie watched as Sara began to smile. 

“I’d like that,” Sara said before she turned around in her chair to face Harrison. “Harrison, I think you’re cool. Do you want to be friends?” 

“It would be an honor to be your friend,” Harrison cleared his throat. “I think you’re cool too.” 

Carrie watched the two of them assemble the puzzle together, trying not to cry again as Sara laughed at one of Harrison’s lousy jokes. Her eyes lit up as she looked at her father, pulling her chair closer to him and resting her head onto his shoulder as the two of them worked. Carrie pulled her phone out from her pocket and took a photo of Harrison and Sara smiling together, knowing that it would take a coveted spot next to the photos already above her desk. 

“Sara,” Harrison paused what he was doing. “Do you think that I would be a good dad?” 

“Don’t do this.” Carrie whispered, watching Harrison as he didn’t turn back to respond to her. 

“Yes. You could be mine if I ever need one.” Sara continued working on her puzzle, not looking up as she spoke. 

“If she ever needed one,” Harrison repeated as he looked over to Carrie. “You’ve done a great job.” 

“Thank you,” Carrie scrunched her nose, stopping herself from crying and risking snot to hit her lips. “You will too.” 

⇣

Carrie woke up with the feeling of a hangover, not one of intoxication but one that helped her rethink the night before. She, Sara, and Harrison had been together for the first time, with Sara and Harrison bonding instantaneously. Harrison had left an hour later, apologizing but needing to attend an emergency meeting. Mark had gotten sidetracked at the store, not coming home in time to meet Harrison. 

Carrie knew that she would have to meet again with Harrison late in the afternoon, needing to do more research on his case before heading over to see him. She rubbed her fingers against her pillowcase, wanting to fall back asleep but keeping in mind that her alarm was scheduled to go off at any minute. Her mind kept drifting through memories of the night before. Harrison took to Sara like she was his own, and although she was, he hadn’t known for long. 

She thought about how Harrison had the potential to be a father and felt herself become emotional again, knowing that Sara deserved that and she got to experience it for the first time on her birthday. Carrie wanted to tell Sara about Harrison’s true role in her life, but she lacked the courage, remaining too afraid that something would go wrong. 

Saving her tears for later, Carrie checked her emails on her phone, seeing a new message from her senior case manager asking for her progress. She replied back that so far she and Harrison had partaken in three meetings, which wasn’t exactly a lie. She typed out what she had written down two nights before, which wasn’t much, and then added onto it by saying what else she remembered. Carrie heard the rest of her house outside her door, talking to each other and running in the hallway, both Jennifer and Mark children at heart. She continued to work, rubbing her forehead and trying to focus.

Carrie submitted her paperwork over email, refreshing the page as she waited for a response, tapping her nails against the wood of her desk and taking a drink from a water bottle half full. Jennifer had returned the car to the driveway, and Carrie took her keys from her bag, standing up to grab it off of the hook it hung onto. She checked her email one last time, turning off her monitor after nothing new appeared. Arriving to Harrison’s early didn’t seem to be a horrible idea, and Carrie planned to leave after she got ready for the day. 

She took a t-shirt from her closet, which was a size too small and seemingly Jennifer’s instead of hers, and slipped it over her head, stretching the jersey fabric to cover her waist. Carrie took the same jeans that she had worn the night before, pulling them onto her legs and tossing a windbreaker over top, hoping that the rain had finally left the forecast but preparing for it to come again. 

“How was last night?” Jennifer asked Carrie as she stepped into the hallway. 

“It was alright,” Carrie smiled as she pulled her hair into a hair tie. “Well, actually, it was a lot more than alright. I just don’t know where to go from here. Y’know, now they know each other, and I don’t know how I want to go about introducing Harrison more and more into her life.”

“Was it awkward? I feel like after I showed up the mood completely changed.”

“No, you showing up was pretty funny.” Carrie adjusted her bag higher onto her shoulder, keeping her keys looped around her fingers. “She really likes him. They connected instantly. And he’s just… I don’t know. I’ve never seen him be so normal. He’s always kind of tight, business-y, and then last night he came with a present for her and they put it together and they were joking around. I didn’t know he was capable of being a normal person, I’ve only ever seen him as a figure of authority or as someone that I can’t fully reach, but last night he was present, he was there.” 

“Let me guess, you’re leaving the house to go see him.”

“It’s my job,” Carrie said. “I want to get paid, and if there’s time then maybe I can talk to him about something that doesn’t involve divorcing.” 

Carrie walked down the stairs of the home and out the door, stopping to catch herself in the mirror, fixing her hair again before giving up to let it fall straight. She unlocked the car, immediately reaching for her wallet for quarters. Counting out what she needed for the meter, Carrie put the car in drive. 

She arrived at the parking spot at noon and filled the meter for a four hour time slot, doubting she would be there that long but not wanting to risk the car being towed again. The same man that had walked Carrie inside before met her at the side gates, putting his hand to her back to swiftly guide her inside. Carrie went through the same security as last time, sighing as they took a pen from her bag this time. She ignored the map that was handed to her and instead asked if Harrison was busy, which she didn’t receive an answer for. 

Carrie continued up the staircase, walking along the familiar path to Harrison’s office. She knocked once, then twice, before Harrison opened the door. 

“You’re early.” 

“I have to talk to you about last night, then we can do whatever business it is that we need to.” Carrie sat down at Harrison’s desk, seeing that the same chair she had moved there before was still beside his. 

“Carrie, I know what you’re going to say, that I’m adapting to this too quickly, and or that we can never be anything more than acquaintances because then we’ll get to be friends and you know where that will lead. Can’t I just have an actual conversation with you without you policing every word I say and trying to twist a different meaning?” Harrison sat down beside Carrie, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Let’s talk about last night, but let’s not make it into something that it wasn’t.” 

“I didn’t think you were coming onto me, what are you even talking about?”

“I could write a damn novella based on you telling me how we can’t end up together from what all you’ve said these past few days. Do you really think that’s why I want to be around you? I hired you to be my attorney, and I want to see you outside of this because you kept it a secret for five years that we have a child together and I’d appreciate it if I played an active role in her life.” 

“You fucking try-hard. I know exactly what you want to do right now.” Carrie placed her cheek onto her fist. “You’re so predictable.” 

“Just tell me what you wanted to tell me, I don’t have time for you to try and twist this.”

“I wanted to ask you how you felt about this. This means the past few days, you and me, me working for you, Sara, just life.” Carrie bit her lip. “And you don’t need to lie to me and say something to please me, you’re allowed to be mad or scared or whatever else you’re entitled to feeling.” 

Harrison rolled his fingers across the wood of his desk, sighing and grinding his teeth together. “You want to know how I feel about this? I’m confused. I don’t know what to feel. I’ve thought about you and how much I regret how I treated you ever since you left, and don’t try to play like I was only rude to you in the end, I shouldn’t have been fueling the fire by sleeping around with you when I was married and you were my student. The fact that you’re willingly working for me, and with me, now shocks me. I would never want to see me again if I were you.” Harrison swallowed, pausing to compose his thoughts. “And then you’ve let me into your child’s life, and I know that it’s alright for me to have a place in her life because she’s my daughter too, but fuck, I’m practically a stranger to you at this point.” 

“Don’t make me pity you.” Carrie pursed her lips. “I already know you were a complete and utter asshole. You don’t have to speak so eloquently to impress me, stop being so presidential.” 

“If you don’t want to know how I feel then let’s just get to work.” 

“I want to know how you feel, I just want you to be honest with me.” 

“Is me saying that I fucked up a better way to put this?” 

“Sure.” Carrie laughed. “I like when you’re mad.” 

Harrison raised his eyebrows, running his tongue on the roof of his mouth. 

“I’m kidding.” Carrie smiled as she took her notebook out of her bag and flipped to where she had left off in her notes last time “Where do you want to start? We still need to nail down the background information.” 

Carrie scooted her chair closer to Harrison’s, feeling the hair on her neck raise as Harrison looked over her shoulder. She wrote the date in the left margin and circled it, keeping her elbow closer to the page and further from Harrison’s abdomen. 

“We’ve done this so many times before, I’m surprised that helping me with the campaign didn’t turn you off from office work forever.” Harrison took his own pen and wrote on the legal pad in front of him the details that Carrie needed to write down. 

“I went through a period of time when I didn’t want to go into law at all. Once you had moved out and it sunk in that I had no clue what I was going to do with my life, I changed my major to literature. I’ve been reading and writing my entire life, and it was so much easier than what I had been enrolled in. My dream has always been to be a writer, but writing doesn’t pay the bills, so I opted to go into law school after getting my lit degree.” Carrie caught herself doodling on her paper. To stop herself she looked up to Harrison, making eye contact. “I’d much rather be writing a story of my own right now, but having you as my client makes this bearable.” 

“Means a lot,” Harrison chuckled. “I didn't like being a attorney either, that’s why I took the job as a professor.” 

Carrie took the legal pad from Harrison’s desk and copied the content down, occasionally looking up from her work to look at him. 

“Admit it, you’re only acting like this so you can play hard to get.”

“Sometimes I enjoy causing problems on purpose,” Carrie continued to write. “But most of the time I don’t know how to show or tell my emotions, so I get stuck into being rude to other people so that I can avoid confrontation with my own feelings.” 

She finished writing and smiled at Harrison, her teeth still hidden behind her lips, a sense of sadness washing over her face. Her smile remained but her eyes dropped. “You were the first person that I ever loved. I’m not supposed to forget that. No matter how hard my friends try to make me forget about our time together, it’s just something that I can’t do. I don’t want us to not be together because I don’t care about you, it’s because I do.” 

Harrison broke eye contact with Carrie, resting his head into his palms. “You’re so difficult.” 

“I know I am.” Carrie roped her arm around Harrison’s shoulders, waiting for him to look back up at her. “But you put up with me.” 

“It’s easier said than done,” Harrison said as he looked to Carrie, already feeling her arm move away and back down to her paper. 

“What else is there to put? Do you own any property together? Any cars or boats?” 

“I bought a plane when we got married.”

“You’re kidding,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “I know you did not just say that fucking sentence.” 

“I used to fly a lot before I moved to New York, and now I’m not allowed to because of all the risks.” 

“And you act like you know nothing about me,” Carrie scoffed playfully, laughing as she wrote it down. “You’re a democrat with a republican’s pockets. You’ve got more money than you can spend.”

“That’s why I spend it. And I give most of it away, if you watch the news you’d know that, and that I can fly a plane.”

“I’ve not watched the news in years just so I can get away from you.” 

“Then why are you here right now?”

“I didn’t want to see you and not be able to hold you in my hands. I don’t want to have control of you, I’m not insane, but I would rather see you and be able to talk back than to watch you mindlessly.” Carrie continued to write between the lines on her paper. “Anyways, I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“No, I understand, having to see you every day and hear about you without being able to actually be there beside you would’ve been torture for me.” Harrison reached his hand to Carrie’s, but stopped before he was able. He waited until she finished writing and swept her hair out of her vision, tucking it behind Carrie’s ear. 

Carrie nostrils flared as she scrunched her eyes, letting her eyelashes hit her eyelids, pursuing the drama. She took her hand to cup Harrison’s jaw, pulling herself close. “I think that I’m going to come back Thursday, you know I’m busy right now at home, and I think that I’ll be a lot more level headed.” Carrie brushed her thumb over Harrison’s stubble, smiling as she stood up from her seat. 

She took her bag from the floor and placed it back onto her shoulder, slipping in her notebook and tying her shoelaces. Harrison stayed still in his own chair, brows pulled tightly together, his mouth still slightly open. “You’re really good at this.” 

“Thanks, I try.” Carrie walked over to the door to leave, wrapping her palm around the doorknob and twisting it haphazardly. She heard footsteps behind her. Harrison’s form walked heavily on the carpet, with Carrie already feeling his breath on the back of her neck. Turning around, Carrie unwrapped her hand from the knob and gripped Harrison’s shoulder. 

“My birthday is going to be held Thursday night. You should stay after.” Harrison took an envelope from his pocket, ignoring Carrie’s hand on his shoulder making the act of grabbing the paper to be difficult. 

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” Carrie stared at Harrison, moving her body closer to him, waiting until they were all but pressed together. She licked her upper lip, then winked as she hugged Harrison, holding onto his shoulder blades. 

The entire objective was to make herself hard to get, to make Harrison explode and to give her the exact answers that she wanted, but in turn it had been the opposite. She let herself melt into his arms, feeling her muscles relax and her jaw unclench. Carrie felt her head grow heavy, letting it rest in the crook of Harrison’s shoulder. She let herself rest, to feel his touch, how impossibly warm that he always has been despite his cold demeanor. Her shoulders could feel the sensation of Harrison holding her when she would leave to go back to her dorm, and her calves could feel the cotton of Harrison’s old bedsheets, but most of all, she could feel both of them, how they felt around and between each other’s minds, their hearts, their bodies. 

“I’ve been a real bitch, haven’t I?” Carrie pulled away first. “I’ll be on my worst behavior Thursday. Have fun waiting.” 

⇣

Jennifer sat at Carrie’s desk, drawing on her brows and nodding a quick hello as Carrie entered her bedroom. She continued with her makeup, smiling as she put on lipstick, haphazardly chipping the lipstick on her teeth, rubbing it away with her middle finger. She delicately moved her bangs higher, spraying them with a generous amount of hairspray, coughing and wafting it away. 

Carrie took the can away, tossing it into her makeup bin and throwing herself onto her bed. She watched her ceiling fan circle clockwise, the feeling of sleep tempting her to skip out on the night’s events. Carrie had spent the majority of the week at home working, heading into the office only when she needed to speak to her case manager. She’d driven Mark to the store and back, talking to him about the plans that night to take care of Sara while she and Jennifer went to Harrison’s birthday party. 

“What am I supposed to do tonight? You’ll be with Harrison the whole time.”

“You can bring Patrick if you really want to, I’ve not even had a full conversation with him yet. I’ll have to call Harrison and get it cleared beforehand.” Carrie rubbed her temples. “Besides, we’re going to be there for a few hours, maybe longer, so I’ll see you plenty. I’d take an overnight bag in case.” 

“I’m already a step ahead.” Jennifer held up her clutch. “Everything I need.” 

“What the fuck fits in that thing?” 

“Weed, tampons, a Starbucks gift card.” 

“I got lipstick taken from me the first time I went, you’re better off bringing a gun in there.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “Take a t-shirt or something.” 

Carrie pulled her bed covers on top of herself, eyeing her closet, the doors pushed open. She needed to get dressed in six minutes if she and Jennifer were to make it, and no outfits seemed appealing. 

“How old is he today?”

“Forty. Which is crazy, I still remember him telling me he was worried about running because he wouldn’t be thirty-five until after primaries.”

“He’s fourteen years older than you are,” Jennifer stood up from the desk rezipping her makeup bag. “I always forget that.” 

“I do too,” Carrie said, following Jennifer in suit, going to her closet and grabbing the first thing she saw, a short white dress and the shoes she wore earlier that day. “If this is anything like that awful party you and I went to where I ran into Harrison, please know that I won’t blame you if you vote against him in November.” 

Jennifer laughed, taking a coat off of one of Carrie’s hangers and draping it over her own shoulders. She ran his fingers over one of her acrylic nails, rubbing off a stain, waiting for Carrie to finish dressing. 

“Do you have a bag packed?”

“No, but I only need my phone and pajamas. Grab me a shirt and shorts.” Carrie pulled the dress over her head, struggling to pull the tight sleeves onto her shoulders. “Put it in the bag that I’m always carrying.” 

Jennifer folded the clothing into Carrie’s bag, playfully tossing it to her as she tied her shoes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Carrie stood up. “You’re driving, I don’t care how many times that I’ve been there since, I’m not planning on getting the car towed. You park. You pay the meter.” 

“Alright,” Jennifer said, grabbing the car keys and starting to walk into the hallway. “Let’s go.” 

Carrie and Jennifer walked down the hallway, heading down the stairs and watching their steps. Jennifer had on heels, making her steps down the steep stairwell difficult. Carrie laughed as Jennifer almost missed a step, then grabbed her hand as they walked out of the front door. Jennifer popped the trunk of their car, tossing in her clutch and Carrie’s bag, emptying the clutch into the floorboard and stuffing in a t-shirt under Carrie’s advice. 

“What do you think we’re going to do all night?” Jennifer tugged on her seatbelt, kicking off her heels and placing them in the backseat to drive. 

“I don’t know. I think that it’s going to be really awkward. Imagine me talking to Harrison and no one else knowing who I am. I don’t want to look like a mistress.” 

“You don’t have to look the part to play the part.” Jennifer started backing up, seeing Carrie sigh as she turned her head to watch the back window. “I’m joking. I’m sure that you’ll get to talk to him when he’s not busy and that no one will bat an eye.” 

“I hope so.” Carrie checked the time on her phone before sitting it into the cupholder. “We’ve got thirty minutes to get there.”

“We’ll be fine. If we’re late we’re late, if we’re early we’re early. Everyone’s going to the same party.” 

Carrie rested her head onto the window as Jennifer drove, watching as the suburban area turned into the city, with buildings shorter than those back in New York but just as compact. “Why didn’t you and Mark stay in New York for theater?”

“It’s far more competitive, and I know that Mark was a swing a few times and did some off-off-off Broadway things, but I couldn’t find work as a dancer as easily as he could an actor. In musical theater it’s easier for men to get any part because there’s not as many. It’s hard to stick out as a female dancer, there are thousands of us in New York trying to do something, and I got a degree in finances, not theater or dance or something of the sort. I came here the summer before I met you for summer stock, and then I just kept going back. It’s the same level of work and talent as in New York but there’s the competition of regional theater instead. I took Mark with me last summer and we both got job offers to teach here, and I knew that you’d rather not try to raise a kid in one of the most expensive cities on the planet and that your bar exam worked here as well. I miss New york, but none of us could survive there. Mark had three jobs at one point, and even though I was born into money, I’d rather not just ask my dad for something when I need it. You only worked during the summers, and on top of that you had school to finish and we had graduated.”

“I can’t believe that I’ve been gone from home for two weeks and I’ve already gotten into this mess. Two weeks ago I was in our apartment and packing, and now I’m on my way to the White House for Harrison’s party. I know that you want to follow your dreams and all, but maybe my dreams are to live a simple life without worrying about him.”

“You were never going to live a simple life. You got a full-ride scholarship to Columbia fresh out of high school and left the middle of a cornfield-meth town to go to Manhattan, and Harrison saw you for your opportunity and your confidence, and through some twists and turns, you were the driving force that got him into the presidency. You’ve got a daughter with him, didn’t you think about that when you decided that you never wanted to think about or be reminded of him? And even if none of this had ever happened to you, I still know you as one of the most interesting people of all time. I know that you would’ve found yourself into some trouble sooner or later, even if it was in the midwest.” Jennifer smiled. “And I know you don’t want to waste your life away doing simple things.” 

“My definition of something out of the ordinary is starting a business or writing a novel, not having an affair with someone six years ago and then being randomly chosen to become their divorce attorney.” Carrie picked at the skin around her thumb. “But I guess you’re right, no, I know you’re right, I’m just too stubborn to face my life.”

“You can either do that tonight, or wait until you see him again, or do it months later, or just let this fizzle out, be his attorney, and then never see him again.” 

“That’s easier said than done.” 

“I know that. I’ve known you since this all began, I’ve seen you go through this. But you’re strong enough to talk to Harrison and to tell him whatever it is that you want to tell him. What was it that you told me, you know, when I was going to take the job here and I was nervous?”  
  


“Stay afraid but do it anyway.” Carrie coughed. “I’m better at giving advice than receiving it.” 

“You can be good at both, you’ve just never put any effort into it. I know you’re headstrong and want to live with yourself, but you don’t have to do that, you don’t need to do that.”

“But I’m going to do that,” Carrie laughed. “And you can’t stop me.” 

“Have fun with that.” Jennifer put their car into park. “Quarters?” She reached out her hand to Carrie, scrunching her fingers together as Carrie searched the glovebox. 

“Hold on a second,” Carrie chuckled as Jennifer became impatient. “Here. Six hours worth. That’s twenty-four quarters.”

“Can you let Harrison know that we would like it if the meters took bills? Or, at this point, gold dollars? This is his house that the meters are near.” 

Carrie collected her and Jennifer’s belongings from the trunk of the car, locking the doors and joining Jennifer at the meter. She took the receipt and tucked it beneath the windshield wipers, hoping that no one would rip it out. “Are you ready to go inside?”

“I feel like it’s going to look boring.”

“It looks like it does in movies, if that’s any indication.” Carrie had Jennifer follow her around the gate, heading to the right side. “I think I’m underdressed.” 

Multiple men and women in day suits walked into the gates in front of them, leaving Carrie to stare down at her dress and pull at it with her hands, hoping that it was long enough. She took her purse off of her shoulder, reaching for her phone to check the time again, remembering that she had left it in the car. 

“You’re not going to need your phone. We can people-watch for entertainment.” Jennifer shoved the straps of Carrie’s bag back onto her shoulder.

“You don’t have a child that you are trusting with Mark right now. It’s a very scary thought.”

“If something terrible happens then he’ll call me as backup. He’d probably call me first, to be honest with you. He’d ask me if you were going to kill him for what had happened.” 

“You’ve done a great job at giving me the comforting thought that things have happened before that have made him call you and see if I’ll accept his begs for forgiveness.” The duo moved up in line, walking their way past the gates and into security. 

“This sucks.” Jennifer pulled the t-shirt that she had balled into her clutch out from it, planning how she was going to fold it back inside. “How many times have you gone through this? Twice?”  
  


“Yeah, twice too many.” Carrie looked over at the security guard who normally checked her in, watching him force back a laugh. “But I didn’t have anything taken from me this time, I’m improving.” 

Carrie found a visitor’s kiosk and stole a map, handing it to Jennifer and folding it out. “Do you want to follow me or hang around on your own?”  
  


“You’re asking me to pick my poison.” Jennifer squinted as she tried to follow the lines of the map. “Go off and find Harrison, have your fun. I’ll find something to get into. But I have to have updates. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of signing your marriage papers, come find me to give me details.” 

“I doubt that I’m even going to be talking to him.” Carrie sighed. “I’ll be upstairs, I’ll see if he’s in his office. Have fun, don’t die.” 

Carrie followed her typical path, edging her way up the stairs and clinging onto the stair rail, avoiding the people walking in both directions beside her. She made a beeline through the crowd to Harrison’s office, seeing that the door was opened and he wasn’t inside, only the other partygoers. She continued walking down the hallway, passing by the unfamiliar paintings and doors before feeling herself bump into someone else’s chest. 

“You’re here.” Harrison laughed, grabbing Carrie’s shoulders to pull themselves apart. “Funny running into you.” 

“Happy birthday, you old hag.” Carrie gave him a hug, pressing their bodies back together. “What are your plans? Pension? 401k?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about that in twenty years or so, I’m too busy right now.” 

“With what? You’re throwing a party right now.” 

“I’m busy with that and with you. You’re high maintenance.” 

“Like you’re not.” 

“Come find me in,” Harrison looked down to his watch. “Oh, say twenty, twenty-five minutes from now. I’ll be in my private office, it’s on the third floor and to the left, no one should be up there.” 

“Sure, I’ll see you then.” Carrie winked and walked away, finding a bedroom and secluding herself into the attached bath. 

She stared at herself in the mirror, fixing her dress yet again, seeing as no one else was showing their legs or their chest. Her cleavage was tucked in, but she still pulled up the dress's low collar, wanting to look presentable. Carrie knew that she could wear whatever she wanted to and would deserve the same respect, but she felt out of place. 

Her hands ran over the marble of the sink, wanting to cry as she realized that just the surface of that counter was worth more money than anything that she owned. Harrison had climbed higher and higher as she had known him, and she had elevated herself onto bigger and better things as well, but she had only taken a step, while Harrison had been able to skip an entire stairwell. 

Carrie looked back for her phone again, sighing and sitting down onto the mat on the floor, tapping her nails on the tiles waiting for time to pass. Jennifer’s words echoed in her head, that she could either say what she wanted to say and face her problems head-on or stay living a lie. She knew that she would never be fully satisfied in playing things safe. 

She continued to sit on the floor, thinking over all of the outcomes that would be the result of talking to Harrison or not. Carrie took out her earrings, focusing on that motion instead of delving too deep into her thoughts. Someone knocked on the door, leading her to leave, forgetting her earrings underneath the cabinet and to walk to the third floor. 

Harrison’s private office wasn’t hard to find, with only minimal rooms on the third and final floor and the office being the only one with a different colored door. “Knock knock,” Carrie said, turning the door handle with her palm. 

“Hey. I thought that tonight we could take a break from work, and not talk about anything specifically, but just hang out, like as friends.” Harrison sat on the couch beside his desk, his hands feeling the scratched leather. 

“I’m not going to do that.” Carrie sat down on the couch beside him. “I’ve been trying to find the time, and a way how, to tell you this for five years, and if I don’t say this to you now, I don’t think that I ever will.”

“I want you in my life. Really fucking bad.” Carrie tried to smile and shrug it off. “I want to see you every day, I want to talk to you every day. I want you to see Sara and to be in her life, to be her father, like you always should have been. I don’t know why I took that away from you, I guess that I was scared, but that’s done more harm than good for both of us. I know that I keep trying to avoid you, but I don’t want to deal with my feelings. I’m doing this now because I have to. I won’t say that I love you, or that I want us to be together, but I miss you. I miss having someone in my life that I can get to call mine…. I never got to do that with you, but you get my point. I want to talk to you about anything I can, I want to see you at work, and at home, and when you’re stressed and then when you’re not. I don’t need you in my life, but I want you. Sara needs a father though, I’m not going to let her grow up like I had to. I don’t want to be friends, or acquaintances, or for me to only work for you.” 

“I thought of you every day for five years. I wrote about you then burned what I’d written, I tried to get you out of my mind that way.” Harrison spoke up, letting air escape his lips and to try and form something coherent. “You were one of the best things that had ever happened to me, and I threw it all away. You know that I was scared for you, I didn’t mean to come off that way. I would never try to hurt you, I don’t care how angry that I was, I regret coming off that way to you. I was an asshole, I know that I was. And I only hope that you can forgive me. I wanted you to be successful and to live up to your potential, and in my eyes, you’ve already skyrocketed past that. If I were you, there would be nothing else that I would ever want. You’ve got what you need. You’ve got two degrees, a nice job, a nice house, two best friends that would do absolutely anything for you, and you’ve got a beautiful daughter, and I know that she means the world to you.”

“But she’s yours too. I can’t live knowing that you’re here, I live here, and we don’t do anything as a family.” Carrie lay her head in her hands. “God, I sound like my mother.”

“Tell me what you want from me. I’ll give you it. I missed you too. I wanted you around, and I still do. Why do you think I’ve been pining for so long.”

“For a week.”

“That’s a long time for me,” Harrison laughed. “It’s been five years, just this week it happened in person. Tell me what it is.” 

“I don’t really know how to convey it to you. I just, I don’t know, I hate to say that I want something romantic out of this, but I do.” Carrie stood up, in one way to keep herself from seeing Harrison’s reaction and in another to take off her shoes. “Fuck me, I guess. Not like that. Oh my God. You get what I mean. I never should’ve said anything, I’m ruining our integrity.” 

Carrie sat down on the edge of Harrison’s desk in an attempt to sit further away from him. “Well?” 

“What do you expect for me to say?” Harrison stood up as well, standing in front of her, his stare forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You know how I feel, unless you’re completely naive.” 

Carrie took her left hand off of the desk where she had braced herself, running her fingers through Harrison’s hair and messing it up, feeling his hair gel sliding through her fingertips and getting caught on a ring. She smiled, biting down on her bottom lip with her teeth, watching as Harrison moved his brows up and down, laughing as they remained face to face. 

She took both of her arms and wrapped them around Harrison’s neck, pulling him in. Carrie could feel their breath combining. “Don’t let go,” Carrie spoke under her breath, feeling her lips dry, realizing that they had remained open. She pulled Harrison even closer to her body, knowing that in that instance that there was no more backtracking, no more silences, no more backing out, no more leaving before she could tell him how she felt. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Only if I don’t kiss you first.” Carrie let herself smile, one last time before she moved her lips to kiss Harrison. 

She moved her head to tilt it to match Harrison’s perfectly, feeling his hands mold into her back. Carrie bucked forwards, not wanting to get a rhythm going but to only have herself move even closer. “I don’t want anything but this. I don’t want sex, I don’t want something too serious, at least not right now.” She broke the two of them apart, moving her own hair out of her face before feeling Harrison pull her back. 

“It’s good to see you again. I’ve missed you, I don’t know who you are when you’re pretending not to feel anything.” Harrison began their kiss again. 

“Stay with me like this. As long as you can. I can be here all night. Just us, together, no one else. Talking to each other, being just like this.”

“Party ends at nine, but I’ll be here all night.” Harrison massaged Carrie’s shoulder blades. “I wouldn’t leave you. I don’t want to leave you ever again.” 

Carrie stood up, wrapping her body around Harrison as he followed in suit, trying to edge up on her tiptoes to relax her head into his shoulder. She moved down from her toes, feeling her cheek slide down the cotton of Harrison’s suit jacket, her cheeks feeling that the jacket had gotten wet. “I need to stop crying, I’m such a wimp.” 

“It’s okay.” Harrison took the tip of his tie to run it beneath Carrie’s eyelashes, her tears soaking the velvet. 

“That’s my favorite tie of yours.” Carrie laughed. 

“Then I’ll keep wearing it.” 

⇣

Carrie waved goodbye to Jennifer, taking her phone from Jennifer’s hand, as she had been gracious enough to run to grab it when she found out that Carrie would be spending the night. She ignored any notifications, placing it into her bag and trying to find her way back to the third floor of the building. She ran her fingertips across the walls, feeling the paint, trying to understand how someone could live in a house as big as it was. 

Harrison was back in his usual office rather than his private, going through what he had to do tomorrow, knowing that when he woke up he’d live his day over again, though without Carrie’s presence. Tomorrow was Friday, and Friday was one of the days that they had scheduled to be apart, and even if Carrie left far into the morning, the sentiment was still the same. She opened up the door, shifting her eyes across the room, sweeping the aerial view, somehow more of an oval than the name made it out to be.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Carrie stood in front of Harrison’s desk, watching as he let go of his pen, ink dripping from the tip of it. 

“It’s on the third floor, to the left, last room.” Harrison attempted to rub away the ink blot on his paper, then continued to write over it. “I’ll be up in a minute. You can sleep in one of the other bedrooms if you want, mine’s nothing special.” 

“There’s no point in me spending the night if I’m not going to share a bed with you,” Carrie sighed. “I just saw the pajamas that Jennifer packed for me, I’m sorry in advance.” 

“What is it?” 

“You’ll see, don’t worry.” Carrie laughed at her words, walking out of Harrison’s office and back into the hallway. She bumped into a marble bust, almost tipping it over and feeling her heartbeat stop. Her imagination of the White House was something simpler than this. 

As Carrie eventually found Harrison’s bedroom, two walks back and forth upstairs later, she fell onto his bed, making herself comfortable, removing her shoes and kicking her feet up. The thought of finding a way home tomorrow seemed unbearable, knowing that Jennifer worked Fridays and that Mark would be the only one home when Carrie needed to leave. Her hands ran up to the necklace that she was wearing, playing with the charm attached and staring up to the ceiling. 

She expected nothing but to sleep. The mere act of being in Harrison’s company again was fine enough for her, just to wake up and feel his breath on her shoulder. At the same time, she knew that she’d have to sit through them talking to each other. Carrie had nothing left to say that she wanted to, even forcing out the same words she had said before that night, only with more conviction. 

Carrie sat up, unclasping her bra from behind her back, still keeping on her dress but attempting to relax. She emptied out the contents of her bag, laughing again as she saw what Jennifer had rolled into her t-shirt. Carrie straightened out her shirt, smiling at the faded lettering of Harrison’s first campaign slogan, the graphic crackled at the breast, the slogan on the back broken at the neckline. She had worn it so often in the first months that she had owned it, including those after Harrison had gone, that the back graphic was almost impossible to make out. But, falling from the shirt was a gift of Jennifer’s own, a rolled joint and lace underwear. Carrie could only imagine the implications behind it. 

Harrison opened the door, watching Carrie fold everything back into her bag and sitting it onto the floor. He took off his suit jacket, hanging it onto a coat rack and unbuttoning his top button. “This whole suit thing’s a pain in the ass. I wish my job required a t-shirt and jeans.”

“You make the rules,” Carrie sat up on the bed, feeling her feet dangle off as she was too short to touch the rug below her. 

“Are you okay?” Harrisons at down beside her, untying his shoes and tossing them beneath the bed. “You look tired.” 

“I am tired. I’m always tired nowadays,” Carrie ran her fingers up to her eyes, feeling if they were sullen in, wondering if dark circles had appeared. “But I’m fine, other than that.”

“You know, I had never seen you in a dress before, until tonight of course.” Harrison coughed, looking at the lace hem of Carrie’s dress. “You look really good. I mean, it’s different, but it’s good.” 

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.” 

“I wouldn’t have pointed it out if I didn’t like it.” 

“Mmh,” Carrie hummed, taking her hand to rest it on Harrison’s jaw before pulling him in to kiss. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“You look just like you did when I first met you. Maybe you did get a little bit taller, though. Five-foot instead of four-eleven.” Harrison teased, chuckling. 

“I’m five-one,” Carrie stated, watching Harrison shake his head in disagreement. “On a good day. Or in short heels.” 

“You’re so much more mature now, though. And I guess it’s because life ages everyone, and you weren’t dealt the best round of cards.”

“I was nineteen, I think that as someone who is turning twenty-six in October that I should have matured a lot. And as someone with a daughter and two degrees, I think that those experiences age you more than anything. I hated school but it was easy, that teaches discipline. I love being a mother but it’s fucking hard, so if you count fourteen wrinkles on my forehead expect thirteen to come from that.” Carrie trailed off, trying to laugh at her joke. “I wish you were there for that.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” Carrie took Harrison’s hand into her own, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. She focused on the movement, talking slowly. “The day she was born was the day that they airing your first speech, preparing you for primaries and your run, and the only channels available were the news, and you were on every screen. I was so angry that I forced Mark into trying to fix the VHS player in the room, I think I’ve got a photo of him shoving the VHS of the first half of Titanic into it. I don’t think that I was actually truly angry with you until that day because out of everything that I had gone through so far, that was the only thing I wanted you to see. Not Mark absolutely wrecking a television, though we all did need a laugh, I wanted you to see your daughter. It’s not fun trying to give birth when your kid’s dad is getting ragged on Fox News.” 

“I may have said that I was mad at you before, I honestly don’t remember much of college or the letters that I wrote to you that you never received, but I had never been mad at anyone in my life in comparison to then. I thought that I could do everything on my own, which it turns out that I could, but it started to sink in that I was going to raise my child as my mother had raised me. We wouldn’t have money or a nice house. She’d end up going to a shitty elementary school, and junior high, and high school. And then when she’d have a hard day she’d have no one to come home to because her mother would be at work to make up for the income lost by not having a second parent in the household. God, at this point I’m just taking you on a walk down my yellow brick road of trauma.”

“What do you want me to do to make it up to you? I have five years to catch up on, I don’t care about how difficult it’ll be.” Harrison took his hand out of Carrie’s grasp, swirling it onto her back, pulling her closer and caressing her shoulders. 

“You can’t make up anything. I’m not going to sugarcoat it.” Carrie shrugged, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “But you can be present now. I’m not going to ask you to do something extraordinary. Just be a normal person with me. Let’s go get dinner. I’ll help you walk the dog, if you still have a dog, that is. You can come over and push Sara on the swings in the backyard. I don’t want anything big, I just want you to partake in the simple things that I do. What’s mundane for you or just an activity to get your mind off of things is my entire life. I wake up, I dress myself, I dress her, I make breakfast, then I go to work. After that, I come home, watch a movie with my roommates, Sara and I’ll play dolls, then I’ll get undressed and shower and fall asleep. Then the next day I do it over again. Then the next. And twice a week or so I’ll go out to a bar or a store with Jennifer, but other than that I’ve got no time to relax.” 

“Take tonight not to think about any of that. I know that’s hard, but just focus on what’s happening right now. Don’t worry about what’s happening at home, and don’t dwell on the past. I’m here, and I’ll continue to be until you don’t want me to be here anymore.” Harrison pulled Carrie closer than he had before, pressing her body into his chest to crane his lips to the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I don’t think this is a good time to say it, so ignore it, but I lost the dog a few years back.” 

“You’re the only guy that’s ever made me feel wanted. I dated Paul before you, and we both know that was a trainwreck. After you left Mark and I had a flirtation, but he’s just too much of a brother to me for us to get anywhere from point A to point B. I think we only kissed once without laughing.” Carrie buried her head into Harrison’s chest, ignoring the plastic buttons of his shirt digging into her skin. She inhaled his cologne, the same one that he had worn ages ago. His tie rubbed against her nose, causing her to have the urge to sneeze, but she masked it by burying her head even deeper. “I went through an awful period of time between Sara being born and my spring semester that year. I don’t know what had really happened, all I know is that I was fucking depressed. I had a few boyfriends, a couple at once actually, and then a few more terrible one night stands. I was trying to find someone who would take care of me because I’d forgotten how to take care of myself.”

Carrie stopped talking, holding onto Harrison’s tie and moving the velvet up and down. She grabbed onto his ribs, holding his tightly and waiting for him to say something, only for Harrison to continue rubbing her back. He ran his fingers through her hair, letting her speak in her own time.

“I wasn’t prepared for anything when it came to my time in college, whether that be you or Sara or my idiot professors. I felt like I was prepared for you, I jumped right in, didn’t I? But at the same time, I don’t think that I cared about my life or my responsibilities as a human being. I spent my days complaining about my courses and my nights either with you or drinking my body weight’s worth of cheap liquor in other people’s apartments. You thought that I was headstrong, but I think that I was just going crazy. I went to health services before my junior year started and they told me I’m bipolar, which I guess makes sense. I’m normal, or as close as I can be to normal, most of the time, but I know when I’m high and when I’m low, and I know I only slept with you because I was out of control. I think that now, whether that be because I’m older or because I’ve managed to cheat the pharmaceutical business into giving me medication, that I would have never done what I did. I don’t think I would have slept with you, nor do I think that I would’ve even accepted the offer to come and work for you. I don’t regret it, though. You’ve taught me everything that I’ve ever needed to know.” 

Harrison drew back from Carrie, pulling her away and undoing his tie. He watched her look at him, her eyes filled with anticipation. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. You’ve been dragged through the deepest dirt while I’ve been living the life that I’ve always wanted to have. You should have been able to live the way you wanted to.” 

“I couldn’t ask for anything different right now. I have Sara, I have a nice job, I’ve got my degrees, I live in a house. Plus, you’re back in my life.” Carrie smiled, helping Harrison unbutton his shirt. “If I don’t bring up any of what I’ve told you tonight again, just know that it all still stands. None of it will ever go away. But I’d appreciate it if you changed the drug business, I didn’t have insurance until I got my job and I’d like to buy the things I need to survive without using loopholes.” 

“When the house creates a bill for it I won’t veto.” Harrison tossed his button-up onto the floor. “I don’t have all of the power in the world. If I did I’d try to make everything better for you.” 

Carrie ruffled her hair with her fingers, taking off her jewelry and placing it onto the nightstand. “You’re the best. Not as cool as me, though. You missed out on a lot of fun being president. My life’s boring now, but those last two years of law school were amazing.” 

“Oh, I know. I’ve been there, more than you were, actually. J.D. and L.L.M.”

“Alright, but tell twenty-five year old you about that and he’ll roll his eyes.” Carrie tittered. “You’re brave for sticking it out for more than three years.” 

Harrison shook his head, dismissing his years of expertise. Carrie kissed him again, running her hand down his back in return, grabbing his belt and balling the leather into her fists. “So, now you’ve got enough sense to sleep with me and not regret it.”

“Shut up,” Carrie laughed, wrapping her arms around Harrison’s back, feeling the weight of his body fall on top of her, pushing her down into the mattress. She undid his belt for him, snaking it off of his hips as she pulled off her dress, pulling it over her head and placing it aside. “I promise I came over here with a bra on, I’m not that desperate.” 

“It’s less work for me, those fucking clips are terrible.”

“Did I ever tell you that I took French in high school and college?” Carrie felt the contours of her body fit into Harrison’s, waiting for him to make the next move by taking off his slacks. “J’y ai pensé depuis que tu es parti. Toi sexe. J’ai envie de toi.”

“You’re not sly, I took it too.” Harrison smirked. “Je veux te baiser. Savoir quelque chose de mieux que ça?” He stuttered out the words, not stringing together the liaisons or pronouncing them correctly, an obvious plot just to please Carrie. 

“Tu peux me faire l'amour quand tu veux, ou vous pouvez manges-moi.” 

“I never got that far into it,” Harrison bit his lip. “What’s that mean?”

“Either you can make love to me or just go down on me, it doesn’t matter.” Carrie smiled. “Or you can do both, tous les deux.” 

“Tous les deux?”

“I give up,” Carrie bit her lip as she leaned onto Harrison again, locking their bodies together by propping her arms behind his back. “Happy birthday, Mr. President.”

⇣

Carrie fumbled with the tie on her robe, some old synthetic silk robe that Harrison found in the back of his closet. She didn’t complain about the scratchy fabric on her skin, knowing that Harrison hadn’t bought clothing for a woman in a while. She kept lifting the sleeves further up her arms, pulling them off of her skin, feeling the fabric drench with her own sweat. Harrison was laying in front of her, his eyelids drifting closer to closing every minute, tracing the features of Carrie’s body with his fingertips. He ran his index finger underneath her chin, down her neck, and to her collarbones, moving gingerly, slow. 

“You’ve already seen everything,” Carrie said, shifting upon her pillow. 

“I know. I can admire you and not think about sex while I do it, though.” 

Carrie closed her eyes, feeling Harrison trace his finger down her chest, between her breasts and back up again, up to her shoulders and stopping where her robe covered. He roped a strand of her hair around his fingertip, twirling it around before tucking it behind her ear, scoffing when it fell back to her cheek. 

“Do you have a tub?” Carrie piped up, watching Harrison furrow his brows. “I need to clean off, and I’d prefer a bathtub. I haven’t had one since the first apartment I had in college.”

“Yeah, the bathroom’s right beside the closet.” 

Carrie felt for her bag beside the bed, taking it into her hands and carrying it with her to the bathroom, emptying it out again, this time onto the counter. She finished untying the robe that Harrison had handed her, letting it slip off of her shoulders and onto the marble flooring. The baby hairs circling her forehead stuck to her face, matting themselves up. Carrie took her brush and brushed them back, brushing her hair until it was straight. Her hair reached her collarbones, and she gained the urge to snip it back to her shoulders, but she knew that she had already made too many big decisions that night. 

She turned on the faucet of the tub, shallower than she thought it would be. The water ran hot immediately, with the temperature showing up on the nozzle. Carrie dipped in her toes, then sank herself in fully, waiting for the tub to fill completely before she pulled her knees into her chest, resting her head onto them. She ran her fingers up and down her legs, thinking about she and Harrison, alongside just how prickly that they were, reaching for a razor but seeing none. Carrie lay back, letting her head hit the porcelain, grabbing the lone sponge and rubbing a bar of soap onto it, trying to create a lather. She made a mental note to complain to Harrison about his poor choices of hygienic care. 

Carrie ran the sponge from her toes to her knees, from her knees to her thighs, there to her pelvis, and up to her torso, running it across her stomach and to the bends of her arms. She extended her legs upwards, stretching them out, cleaning sweat from behind her kneecaps. The bath was almost just as satisfactory as the sex had been. 

She took a hairband from her wrist to pull her hair out of the way, knowing that if a man crawled into her bed with dripping wet hair that she would be upset. Carrie eyed her pile of things on the counter, contemplating if she should wear what Jennifer had packed for her, knowing that her dress was back in Harrison’s bedroom and that her robe felt horrible. Her phone sat there too, and in the hours since she had arrived at Harrison's it had remained off. She rarely became obsessed with technology, but she had been away from home for a few hours longer than she had originally planned, and Jennifer hadn’t reassured her about her and Mark’s abilities to nanny. 

Carrie drained the tub, stepping out in a towel and immediately dropping it. She picked up the underwear Jennifer had hid in the bag, not even laughing that time, putting them on and shrugging off that she didn’t know where the original pair had gone. The old campaign shirt, pastel blue with the cracked letters, that she hadn’t worn for years, slid over her head. She pulled on her shorts before taking a look in the mirror. 

Her lips formed a thin smile as she saw herself standing there. She pulled the shirt to her nose, smelling it and noticing that it still retained the scent of her perfume she wore when she had first received it. Carrie stuffed everything else into her bag, even picking up the ratty robe Harrison had, taking it with her. He wouldn’t miss it. 

“What do you think?” Carrie stood in the doorway, showing off her outfit to Harrison. He rolled over in the bed, opening his eyes and focusing on her. She brought her hand to her face and facepalmed, laughing into her hand as Harrison sat up. 

“Oh, you knew. You planned this. You knew you were going to spend the night here.”

“No, I didn’t. Jennifer reads me like a book, though. I guess she predicted it for me.” Carrie walked back over to the bed and sat down, wrapping her arms around Harrison’s chest. “Do you have any of your 2012 shirts that you can give me?” 

“In the morning,” Harrison yawned. “I’m too tired to remember where they are right now.” Harrison kissed her, pulling Carrie off of him and pulling the sheets over her. “I’m going to shower, go to bed, I’ll be right back.” 

⇣

Carrie had called a car service to pick her up, stealing one of Harrison’s jackets to wear out while he was still sleeping to cover up her shirt. She zipped it all the way, pulling on the hood and leaving the building, saying goodbye to her favorite security guard. 

Riding in the back of the car, she finally turned her phone back on, waiting for the messages to begin ringing in. She ignored them as they came through, knowing that the only people texting her lived with her and not wanting to deal with it as soon as she saw the volume of her notifications.

Carrie gave the driver the directions home, ignoring his questions as to why she was leaving the White House at six in the morning. They arrived at the driveway, Carrie handing him a twenty and stepping out of the car. She walked directly to the front door, unlocking it with her key and trying to silently step inside. 

She took off the jacket that she was wearing, unzipping it and hanging it onto a hanger to place it into her closet, making a mental note to take it back the next time that she saw Harrison. Carrie rolled off her t-shirt, tossing it and everything else that she was wearing into her bag. She wrapped herself into her own dressing gown, picking up her bag again to carry it into the washroom, squeezing herself between the washer and the dryer to empty out its contents. 

Starting with her pajamas, she tossed them into the washer, hanging up her dress to clean some other time. Seeing the robe that Harrison gave her in the light, she felt the pills on the cuffs with her fingertips, almost placing it into the cabinet to use for rags at a later time, but throwing it into the wash with the rest of her clothing. She heard a knock on the door, opening it up to see Jennifer walking in. 

“It’s six, please don’t start the washer, you know how loud that is.” Jennifer turned the dial to its lowest setting, reclining against the wall and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“You’re supposed to be going to work right now,” Carrie retorted. “Is there anything you need to wash while I’m doing this?”

“No, I did all of mine yesterday.” Jennifer picked at her nails with her thumb. “How’d last night end up?”

Carrie gave Jennifer a thin smile, raising her eyebrows. “It was something.” 

“You have to give me more detail than that. Did you talk to each other?”

“Yeah, somewhat. I did most of the talking,”

“You always do,” Jennifer coughed. “Did anything else happen?”  
  


“I’ll say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“And the dick grow longer. You guys had to have had sex.” Jennifer questioned Carrie, waiting for her response. 

“Well, yes. But that’s not the most important thing,” Carrie laughed. “What’s important is that we talked things through. I don’t expect for us to go anywhere further than where we are now, or at the very least not until we’re done working together, but it’s nice to have someone who cares about you as more than just a friend.” 

“Do you want anything to come out of it, though?” 

“I’d love it if something did,” Carrie tightened her robe around herself. “I’m not expecting it to.”

Carrie went back to her bedroom, pulling on her work clothes and freshening up the makeup that was leftover from the night before, then rolling back into bed and setting her alarm for the latest time that she could. Work began at nine, then she’d leave at five. When she wasn’t set to meet with Harrison, she stuck to her office, trying to set aside that time to work everything out. 

She pulled her covers tight around herself, ignoring her fan still on that made the room too cold. Her ability to sleep had gone, already far too awake from traveling back home. Instead of turning off her fan, Carrie took the jacket she had stolen out of her closet, putting it on and crawling back into bed. The jacket was far too large, engulfing her knees and its hood falling over her nose, but it was warm. She played with the ties, tapping the aglets together, remembering how Harrison had tapped her shoulder as he had come back to bed, not letting her fall completely asleep without saying goodnight. 

Harrison looked the same as he did when they first met, the same broad stature, the suits he wore the same texture. His arms were still as muscular, but instead of only being strong in a physical sense, Carrie knew that Harrison’s arms had the strength to hold onto her, to carry the feelings that both of them felt and to build something with them. She knew that he had changed his philosophies, Harrison apologizing for anything that he could, and instead of wanting her there for company, he wanted her there for companionship. 

Carrie’s mind had stayed the same, only evolving from wanting to be with Harrison to being able to comprehend how to do it. She swore under her breath as she knew she didn’t look the same, always pointing out the dimples on her thighs or the stripes on her stomach, trying not to concentrate too hard, knowing that she’d only gain more forehead lines. She had spent hours in college working to make herself look like the image of the ideal woman before dates, wanting to impress who she would see with both her body and her mind. Harrison paid no attention to her skin, glossing over her body with his lips, not stopping to question anything. 

She had felt at ease, safe, rested; Harrison kept Carrie occupied with him, but now that she had left she was occupied with her thoughts. After waiting years, working through failed first dates and one night stands that fell through, Carrie had found the only man that she wanted, and although he was in reach, he still felt far. 

Carrie knew that she could see Harrison at least twice a week and that he was interested in seeing Sara when he had the time, but his position of power made him feel lightyears away. She had felt so close to him, cradling herself in his arms and whispering sentences into his skin, but the moment that she had left, the distance between them physically took over her representation of Harrison within her mind. Carrie knew him when he was with her, but in her thoughts, he remained foreign, whether that be from years of only seeing him on television screens or from her past relationship with him where he had expressed almost nothing. 

As her bedroom door slowly opened and more cold air came in, Carrie tightened her grip on the jacket, pretending that it was more than just fabric. 

⇣ 

Carrie took off her shoes by the door, placing them underneath the coat rack and heading into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door, taking out a bottle of water, and sat on a barstool, cracking her knuckles before resting her head in her hands. 

“You okay?” Mark sat down beside her, ignoring his previous plans to make himself something for dinner. “How was work?”

“I’m going to need something stronger than water,” Carrie sighed, looking up to Mark and letting her chin hit her palm. “My boss is an asshole, but other than that I’m just stressed. I don’t think I fully went to sleep last night.” 

Carrie stood up again, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out a brush from a drawer, beginning to scrub the stove to take out her frustration. “Why is it that everyone else has it easy and I don’t?” She ran her nails across the grit, biting her thumb when she bent the nail backward. 

“You could have stayed home last night, could’ve continued working. I think that you deserve to go out places other than work, but you’ve been gone so much these past two weeks that I forgot you even stay here.” Mark said, rolling the pencil that was previously tucked behind his ear onto the table. “Take time to yourself, stop worrying about something that you know isn’t going to work out.”

“What do you mean by that? What’s not going to work out?” Carrie sat herself up onto the cabinet.

“I’m just saying that you’ve been leaving to go to Harrison’s almost every day now, and if this continues like it used to then you shouldn’t expect anything to happen. He’s just going to take advantage of you and use you for work and sex.”

“Name any occasion where I told you that he took advantage of me, present or past. Quickly.” Carrie stayed sitting, unimpressed and waiting for Mark to say anything that could make her any angrier than she had been all day. “I don’t say shit about you and your girlfriend. I see you in the mornings when I know that you’ve just walked her out and I start breakfast. You know, I’ll talk to Jennifer about Patrick who, correct me if I’m wrong, she met when he was helping me move in, and that she works with as well. If you’re going to be wary of Harrison and I doing business together while we’re trying to work out things that happened years ago but you’re not worried for Jennifer who is starting something with a man she’s worked with for the two months that she’s lived here, I know that you’re just being petty.” 

“You’ve got bigger things to worry about than a relationship, though. I’m not upset with you, and don’t think that I’m trying to guide your life, but I just want you to be happy, and even though you are right now, maybe something will happen.”

“I haven’t said anything to you about us being in a relationship - which we aren’t.” Carrie popped her neck, stretching it out before looking back to Mark again. “I don’t ask you about your life, so you shouldn’t ask me about mine. And I get it. I’m clumsy, I make bad decisions that I don’t think through. Yeah, maybe me agreeing to work with him was stupid, but I have to pay the bills. Anytime I bring him up you completely shut me down, which makes sense, given the fact that the only time I talked about him in college was when I was complaining about him, but you never knew any of the great things he’s done for me.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense to me that you’re even willing to talk to him again. I don’t call that being clumsy or not thinking things through, I call it being ignorant.” Mark saw Jennifer walk downstairs but continued his statement. “This is the same man who cheated on his wife with you when you were nineteen years old. You have a daughter with him that he’s never fucking seen, and I know he doesn’t plan to. Whether any of that’s going to get through to you or not, he’s abusing his power by using you as his attorney in his divorce case right before his reelection. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”  
  


“Yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He didn’t know that I was going to be his attorney, he gave me the choice to back out more than once. He didn’t want to put me to work, even. This past week we haven’t talked about his case more than once, he’s just wanted to know how I’ve been. I have never seen anyone apologize as authentically as he has. He’s offered me everything, money, time. On Sara’s birthday, he came over for an hour to meet her for the first time. Given, you were at the store, so how could you have possibly known, but the only reason that I didn’t tell you is because I knew that you would be upset. I’m not in college anymore, I’m not nineteen and twenty years old. I’m turning twenty-six in October, you’re almost thirty. We’re both old enough and intelligent enough not to hold a five-year grudge against someone without reason. He wants a place in Sara’s life, and I’m more than happy to give that to him, that’s all I’ve wanted for her since she was fucking born. Why don’t you want me to be happy? Why do you not want me to make mistakes and learn from them? I’m never going to be a perfect person, a perfect friend or a perfect mother, but I can’t try to be that if I don’t try at all in the first place.” 

Carrie slid off the counter, taking a sip of her water and rolling her eyes as Jennifer walked in, leaning against the wall and observing. 

“I’m bored, nothing good is on Netflix and I need some entertainment. Keep going.” Jennifer laughed, running a comb through her hair. 

“No, I don’t want us all to get upset about some drama.” Carrie sighed, letting out the breath she was holding. “I’ve just had a rough day, this isn’t making it any better. I’m going to go upstairs and see Sara, watch a movie with her or something, then I’ll order take out because God knows I’m not going to cook tonight.” 

She walked upstairs, walking slowly to try and focus her mind on her movements. Carrie contemplated going to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes, but knew that there was no use. She stood in the hallway, thinking about her boss yelling at her for falling behind, even though she’d gone above and beyond when it came to the notes from their meetings. She believed she’d never be good enough at her job, wanting to resort to writing but knowing that she couldn’t make money off of it. Her fingers took hold of Sara’s doorknob, feeling the cold metal and replacing her thoughts of her boss and Mark with the touch. 

Carrie peaked her head into Sara’s bedroom, smiling as she saw her laying on her chest, her feet kicked up behind her and a doll in each hand. “I’m home from work, finally!”

“I like your sweater,” Sara hugged Carrie around her neck as Carrie bent down to her height. 

“I know, it’s the one that you picked out from the store,” Carrie laughed. She ran her fingers through the limp curls in Sara’s hair, if you could even call them that. “I missed you all day. And yesterday too. I’m sorry that I was gone.” 

Carrie swept Sara’s hair from her eyes, watching as she blinked it away as well. She looked into her eyes, noticing for the first time that the hazel pattern was the same as Harrison’s, completely brown, sparing for the green on the inside. “What did you do while I was away?”

“I watched a movie with Mark last night, then when Jennifer came back from work today we made these.” Sara walked over to her desk, stepping into her chair to reach the paper. She spread her arms out, showing Carrie a chain of paper dolls, each with drawn-on faces, some much better than others. 

Carrie took the chain from her, looking at the drawings and folding it back. “Was that it?” 

“They have jobs too, they can’t spend all their time with me.”

“You’re right,” Carrie shifted to sit on her knees. “But I don’t want you to be bored when I have to do things.” She clenched her teeth together, coughing and dreading having to work again. Her boss forced her to go in every day, even though they had agreed that Tuesdays and Thursdays were to work from home. All of her time had been spent with Sara since she was born, only going away for two-hour classes twice a day, leaving at night to work evenings. It wasn’t Jennifer or Mark’s responsibility to help her, and she’d be surprised if Mark wanted to at all after that night, “I promise that I only go to work because I have to.” 

“Could you take me with you?” Sara asked, shrugging her shoulders, a gesture that Jennifer had taught her the meaning of. 

Carrie bit her lip, running her tongue over it in the process. “No, you know that I can’t do that. Plus, you start school in August, that’s two weeks from now.” 

“Okay.” Sara sat down beside Carrie, taking the dolls that she held earlier and placing one into Carrie’s hand. Carrie looked down, seeing it to be the mangled one, with a haircut jagged and missing a shoe. Carrie chuckled, searching behind her for something that could take its place. “Her name’s Samantha, I found her in the bottom of the crate, I think she’s pretty cool.” 

“Yeah, she looks… pretty wicked to me.” Carrie waddled the doll across the carpet, speaking under her breath in her best doll voice, talking about how she was missing her shoe. “If you want to go do something with me the next time I’m out, we can go see Harrison together. I know that you don’t really know him, but he’s nice, and he’s not Jennifer and Mark, you could see one of my different friends for a change.” 

“Yes! I’d love to do that,” Sara smiled. “Do you think we could all sleepover?” 

“I don’t know, you’d have to sleep in a different room than him and I.” Carrie tried to think of a reason, distracting herself by detangling the doll’s hair. “But I could ask him.” 

⇣ 

“Is Carrie home?” 

“Who is this?” Jennifer held the phone up to her ear, twirling the cord around her fingers. She hung her head off of the couch, her legs crossed above her, watching television and enjoying her weekend off. “What do you want? Are you a bill collector? Because I swear that we’re paying the electric bill tomorrow.” 

“It’s Harrison,” Jennifer heard him sigh over the line. “Is she home right now?” 

“It’s a Saturday, I doubt that she’s awake yet. If she is, she's with Sara. Do you want me to go grab her?” 

“No, you don’t have to, just tell her to call me back.” Harrison started to read out his phone number over the line, unsure if the home phone read caller ID. 

“Carrie! It’s for you!” Jennifer held the phone outstretched, not hearing Harrison’s protests. “Harrison’s on the line.” 

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus,” Carrie walked downstairs, still in her pajamas. “You doubt that I’d be awake at eleven.” 

“Were you out of bed yet?” Jennifer laughed, playfully pulling at the tie on Carrie’s robe. 

“No, and that’s the point.” Carrie smiled, taking the phone. She stretched her body across the recliner, laying on her stomach. “Hello?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Harrison asked, ignoring the knocks on his office door, listening intently for Carrie’s reply. 

“What is this? Some sort of code word for phone sex? Well I’m in a robe and pajama shorts from junior high, so if you want to get off to that so be it.” Carrie took her hair down from its ponytail, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“I’m on a government secured phone line, they can hear anything I say. I’m not going to do that.” Harrison chuckled, putting the phone on speaker mode and folding his hands in his lap. He reclined back in his desk chair. “I know about your life, or at least my place in it, but I don’t know about you. What’s your favorite color? Childhood memories? I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, in that case,” Carrie bit her lip, looking to Jennifer and rolling her eyes. “My favorite color is blue, or red, I don’t know. I don’t think that I have one.”

“Everyone has to have a favorite color,” Harrison coughed. “I like the color blue, light blue. All of my button-ups are blue when I can wear ones other than white. You have to have one color that you prefer.”

“Okay, red. I’d say pink but I don’t ever wear that.” Jennifer shook her head at Carrie, stifling back a laugh at her response. “Now’s my turn to ask you questions. Favorite movie or show.” 

“I like The West Wing, I used to watch that religiously, I guess we can see why.” Harrison stopped to remember his favorite film, never one to go out to the cinema. “My favorite movie is Top Gun. I had just graduated when it came out and I almost gave up going to college to join the navy. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen, but then I remembered that I don’t find militarism too favorable and I passed. You?”

“Militarism, okay Mr. President,” Carrie stole a sip from Jennifer’s coke, shrugging as she passed it back. “I like watching Friends, and Sex and the City. Sometimes trashy sitcoms are good. Then my favorite movie is Titanic, by a landslide.”

“Did Mark ever get it to play?” 

“No, never in a million years would he have been able to,” Carrie laughed. “Alright, what did you really call to ask me?” 

“I’m going to Austin on Thursday for a campaign rally. Do you want to come with me?” Harrison double-checked his calendar, looking to where he had already scrawled in Carrie’s name alongside the trip. 

“Sara starts elementary school on Thursday. There’s no way that I’m going to miss that. Raincheck?” 

“You should’ve told me, I knew it was sometime early August, I would’ve tried to be there. I don’t know how I’d do it, but I would’ve tried.” Harrison sighed, drumming his fingers against his desk. “Well, I’m giving a speech at the UN that Saturday. No one’s supposed to know, it’s a surprise type of deal, so I’d like it if you didn’t mention it to Jennifer or Mark. We could leave out late Friday night, spend the night in a nice hotel in Manhattan, go get breakfast and go walking, then you could come to the UN with me and we’d be back by Sunday morning. How about that?”

“You know that I love New York,” Carrie hummed. “Which airport am I meeting you at on Friday?” 

“Andrew’s base, it’s in Maryland. I’ll send a car for you, around seven or eight that night. You’ll just leave from your place and they’ll take you there.” 

“Alright, let’s do this. I’ve never seen Air Force One in person before. I tried to catch it leaving LaGuardia once and I failed.” Carrie watched Jennifer cover her smile, remembering trying to see it together. “Is there a bed on there? Can we both fit or will I be stuck in a plane seat?”

“Yes, there’s a bed. It’s a California king. You can do a lot more than just sleeping in it.” 

“You’re on a government line,” Carrie felt her cheeks grow hotter. “Maybe you should get off before they ask you any questions.” 

“I’ve got a meeting in…” Harrison looked down at his watch and realized why he heard knocks on his door. “Well, I had a meeting ten minutes ago. I’ll see if I can salvage it. Is there anything you want to talk about before I really have to hang up?” 

“Sara wants to come over. Since you’re out of town on Thursday, if you’re able then it would be nice if she and I spent the night that Wednesday. That way you could see her the night before, plus your place is so much closer to her school than mine.” Carrie pursed her lips. “If you can’t then I totally get it, campaigning is hard, I remember.”

“There’s nothing that I want more than to see her again,” Harrison smiled, Carrie able to hear his enthusiasm over the phone. “Does she need anything? A backpack, colored pencils?”

“We need Expo markers, her teacher needs extra. They’re thirteen dollars for an eight pack, did you know that? Why can’t they just use chalkboards like we had?”

“I’ll make sure she has some,” Harrison said. “I’ll see you both Wednesday. I’ve got to go now.”

“Bye,” Carrie waited for Harrison to end the call, finally putting the phone down when she had heard Harrison’s hit its stand. 

“What was that about?” Jennifer asked, turning the volume up on the television to watch it again. 

“Harrison wants me to go with him to New York next weekend,” Carrie pulled her hair back into its ponytail. “Do you think that I should go?” 

“I’m not going to be home, so unless you want Sara with Mark for two days straight, I wouldn’t go.” Jennifer channel surfed, skipping past Mad Men and landing on 30 Rock. “I’m supposed to be in Texas Friday through Sunday.” 

“Since when?” Carrie stood up from the recliner, walking to the kitchen to grab a drink of her own. 

“Since this morning. Loverboy cut off my call with Patrick, so I had no time to tell you.” Jennifer flipped over on the couch, resting her chin on one of the armrests. “And don’t judge me for that. I’m going to meet his family. You’re flying to New York for a potential sexcapade with the President.” 

“Sure I am,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “He’s giving a speech and wants me to go with him. You’re not supposed to know that, though.”

“If you trust Mark, I’d say to go for it. Check out the plane, send me pictures.” Jennifer twisted a ringlet of hair around her index finger. “I’m jealous that you’re going back to New York before I do.” 

“I’m spending all day at the UN, that place hasn’t been renovated since 1994.” Carrie popped the cap off of her coke, sticking in a straw. “I’ll talk to Mark about it.” 

Sitting down on the couch beside Jennifer, Carrie stole the remote. She switched through the channels, laying her head onto Jennifer’s shoulder, massaging her hands to keep herself awake. “You’ve put up with me forever.”

“I’m your best friend,” Jennifer laughed. “Why’re you thinking about that?”

“I can’t help but think that Mark doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. We fight like siblings, he’s been my friend for just as long as you have, and he’s helped me more than I could ever repay him for, but I don’t know anymore. He hates Harrison, and I know that he is justified in that. He had this huge crush on me back in my freshman year, when Harrison and I were first together, and he’s the person who I stayed with that winter break and ranted to for over a month. Mark has every reason to hate him, but if he’s just as close of a friend to me as you are, then why doesn’t he want me to be happy with Harrison?” Carrie sighed, stopping the remote on QVC, scoffing at an ugly purse being advertised. 

“I think that he just wants to protect you. He doesn’t want to see your heart get broken a second time. I don’t either, but I see you more often than he does, and I trust you more.” Jennifer took the throw from the back of the couch, draping it over both herself and Carrie. “You and Mark talk about your jobs, and movies, and interests. You talk to me about drama, you tell me your secrets. The first day that we met you told me about Harrison, Mark was oblivious for a few weeks afterward. In his eyes, you’re still the person that you were in college. He doesn’t see you as someone who is in control of their life. I was the person who helped you study in law school, I was the person who did Sara’s hair for years when I’d get bored, he spent those years at work, even though we were all at a point to where we didn’t need to grind for money anymore.” Jennifer turned off the television, stealing the remote back from Carrie. “He hates Harrison because he doesn’t believe he assumed any responsibility. And how could he? If anything, he should be mad at you for that.”

“He is mad at me, you heard us arguing last night.” Carrie bit her thumb. “He just needs to meet Harrison and talk it out. Not become friendly with him, just, you know, listen.” 

“When are you seeing Harrison again?”

“Wednesday night. Sara and I are spending the night, then that morning he’s leaving for Austin and I’m taking Sara to school. He wanted to see her before she started classes since he couldn’t make it for the first day.” 

“Do you think that Mark and I could go to his place for dinner? I could bring Patrick, he’d bring Peyton. We could all get to know each other more, you only know Peyton from riding in the car with her, you know Patrick from moving in and going to the party.” Jennifer played with her hair. She bit her lip, not expecting Carrie to answer. 

“I’ll call him tonight and ask,” Carrie said. “He’ll say yes.”

“President Ford is a whole lot nicer than Professor Ford.”

“He’s had five long years to reflect on how hard that he fucked up,” Carrie chuckled. “If he wasn’t any nicer then I’d be genuinely surprised. At least this shows that he has a conscience. Before I thought he didn’t even have emotions.” 

⇣

Carrie took the wide-toothed comb from the medicine cabinet, helping Sara climb onto the bathroom counter so that she could braid her hair. She took a spray bottle of water, spritzing Sara’s hair before brushing it straight, hoping for the water to get rid of the waves. “Are you excited?” Carrie asked Sara, looping a hair tie around her index finger. 

“Mmhm,” Sara nodded, drawing a smile with her fingertips onto the mirror. Carrie watched her smudge the mirror, ignoring it, knowing that they were already running late. 

She ran the comb through Sara’s hair, picking out a knot near the ends then parting her hair straight down the middle. Taking one half of her hair, she divided it into three small sections, starting a French braid. “Are you nervous about school tomorrow?” 

“No, I’ll make new friends.” Sara played with the other hair tie still on the counter. “I don’t want to wake up early, though.” 

“Well, you’re definitely my daughter,” Carrie laughed, tying off the end of the braid, brushing out the bottom again. She caught the comb on Sara’s dress, pulling it out and finding that a string had become stuck in the brush. Carrie sighed, looping the string back into place, hoping that it wouldn’t unravel any further. 

Harrison would be calling her any second now, letting her know that the car had arrived. Mark and Jennifer stood outside already with their partners, Mark smoking a cigarette and Jennifer drying her hair in the sunlight. Carrie had spent the day with Sara, splitting time between the park and various stores, doing her last-minute school shopping and wanting to savor the last day together before she started school. They both came home an hour later than they planned, leading Carrie to skip a shower and opt for a dousing of perfume, with Sara picking out her own clothes for the night. 

She felt her phone vibrate, grinding her teeth together as she let it buzz, trying to plait the right side of Sara’s hair in record time. Sara handed back the second hair tie, Carrie twisting it quickly, taking out the two bobby pins that she held between her lips to pull back her baby hairs. She lifted her off of the counter, instructing her to slip on her sandals as she ran to Sara’s room to grab her overnight bag and her backpack. 

Carrie slung her own bag over her shoulder, taking both of Sara’s onto her empty shoulder. “Let’s go, they should be outside.” 

They walked down the stairs together, both skipping the last one out of habit. Carrie took Sara’s hand as she unlocked the door, knowing that the car could pull into the driveway at any time. 

“It took you long enough,” Jennifer waved to Carrie, taking one of Sara’s bags off of her shoulder. 

“Yeah, well you only had one person to get ready, yourself. I have two.” Carrie laughed, fixing one of the bobby pins in Sara’s hair that had fallen. “It’s nice to see you again,” Carrie shook Patrick’s hand as she noticed he was standing beside Jennifer. 

“Nice to see you too,” Patrick said, watching the car that Harrison had sent for the group pull into the driveway. “What exactly are we all doing tonight?” 

“You’re going to be sworn to secrecy if I tell you,” Carrie winked. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know, that just makes me want to ask even more.” 

“We’re all going to have dinner at my boyfriend’s house.”

“Your boyfriend. Okay, Miss America.” Jennifer swatted Carrie’s shoulder. “Carrie’s _boyfriend_ , I haven’t ever heard her call him that before, is Harrison Ford. And Sara’s his daughter. She met him in undergrad, he was her professor.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Carrie squealed, laughing as she rolled her eyes. She looked for Sara, watching as she had run to Mark. “Sara doesn’t know that, though, so don’t mention it.”

“Yeah, you’re lying.” Patrick shook his head, slipping into the car as the driver opened the door. 

“No, Jennifer’s completely serious,” Carrie sat down beside Jennifer, with Sara sitting on the opposite side. “Peyton knows too.” 

Carrie relaxed in the leather seat, taking comfort in the fact that Harrison had sent a limousine, everyone sitting in a seat shaped like a C, talking to each other and filling the air of any awkward pauses, creating a genuine bond between the six of them. 

She fixed the hem of her dress, turning it down and smoothing out her pantyhose. It was the same dress that she had worn to Harrison’s on his birthday, the last outfit that he had seen her in that wasn’t her pajamas. Her hair was fixed differently, pushed back with a headband. Carrie checked her phone, seeing that they were all running five minutes behind. 

“Can you turn on the radio?” Peyton asked the driver, then instructed him which channel to switch it to. 

“We’re not pregaming for a party,” Mark held her hand. “We don’t need Top 40.”

“Yes, we do,” Carrie rebutted, just wanting to make Mark mad. “We’re almost there anyway.” 

Carrie had spoken too soon, watching as the car pulled up to the curb, the right side of the White House gates, where she had entered every time. “You don’t have to worry about getting towed,” Carrie whispered to Jennifer, Jennifer hiding her face in her hands. 

“Is Sean here?” Carrie asked their driver as the group piled out of the car. “You know, bald, about six feet tall, security guard? I don’t know if that’s his name, I tried to get a glimpse of his badge.” 

“Samuel?” The driver laughed. “Yeah, he’s right inside the gates, he’ll let you all in.” 

“Are you all excited to go through screening for the first time?” Carrie smiled. “I get expedited in since I’ve been in before. And Jennifer too. Sucks for the rest of you.” Carrie walked to the gates, raising her brows at her favorite guard. He opened the gates, pulling her and Jennifer onto a different path. 

“I’m guessing that Sara doesn’t have to either,” Mark said, watching her follow behind Carrie. 

“No, she’s too young.” Carrie smiled. “You know, you’re the oldest out of all of us.” 

“Harrison’s forty, nice try.” 

“Have fun waiting in line while I go see him inside.” Carrie handed all three of the bags she was carrying to the guard, watching him search through them and, for the first time, confiscate nothing. 

She walked inside, opening her bag and hanging Harrison’s jacket onto a coat rack, wondering if he would ever find it. Carrie ran his fingers through her hair, taking out her headband and tossing it into her opened bag, zipping it back before walking upstairs. 

“Do you want to wait down here for me? Sara and I are just going upstairs to put away our bags.” Carrie asked Jennifer as she took Sara’s hand. “Let the rest of them know that I’ll be down in a minute. There should be a map showing where the dining room is.” 

Carrie walked up the stairs, Sara following beside her. The carpeting had changed, Carrie having noticed that it was matted down previously. She contemplated going to either of Harrison’s offices to find him first but walked up to his third-floor bedroom. 

“You can sleep in any room in the house,” Carrie began unpacking her bag. She took out the map she had taken on his first visit, showing Sara the different rooms. “This one’s pretty cool,” Carrie took a pen and circled the room in question. “It’s right across from this bedroom.” 

She unfolded her pajamas, stacking them onto one of the nightstands and making sure that they weren’t laying on top of anything important. Sara flopped onto Harrison’s bed, drowning in all of the blankets. “You’re going to mess up your hair,” Carrie sighed, letting her roll around. 

Walking into the bathroom, Carrie emptied the contents of her makeup bag into an empty drawer, scoffing as she observed Harrison’s medicine cabinet only held a singular razor and an old water bottle. She touched up her lipstick, running the pigment slightly above the liner, taking a washrag to wipe it off. 

Carrie continued to make herself at home, putting her shampoo into the shower. Though she would only be there for one night, she didn’t want to keep making trips back and forth for her bag, forgetting something then having to go back once again. Finishing up, she walked back into the bedroom, taking Sara’s things onto her bag and walking into the bedroom across the hall.

“Do you like this one?” Carrie asked, already sitting Sara’s things down as both bags were far too heavy. “There’s a television and a canopy on the bed, just like your room at home.”

“It’s a room for a princess.” Sara looked around. “I love it. It’s so pretty, and it’s nothing like my room at home.” 

Carrie winced, knowing that after tonight Sara wouldn’t want to go back to her small room again. “It isn’t that different, it’s just a little bit bigger.” 

“Face it, it’s a room for a princess.” Sara tilted her head, then shrugged. “It’s like bedrooms in movies.” 

“You’re right,” Carrie jeered. “Let’s go back downstairs, everyone should be inside by now.” 

Peyton was the last person to come inside, having forsaken her earrings to the security guards, getting trapped in the hell that was the metal detector. She found Mark near the door, slipping her hand into his. 

Carrie watched as Jennifer tried to read the map, having waited the entire time that Carrie and Sara were upstairs to try to use it. 

“It’s to your right,” Carrie said, directing everyone to follow her. 

The dining room that they were using was the one used for meetings, not the private room upstairs. There were more chairs and a larger kitchen beside it, and it was in closer proximity to the game room downstairs, pool tables and bowling lanes beneath their feet. Sara wandered over to Jennifer, getting to know Patrick and Jennifer rebraiding her hair, the entire group sitting down at the table except for Carrie, waiting for Harrison back in the foyer. 

Carrie stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to see if Harrison would walk down from either of his offices. She leaned against the railing, picking at her nails and checking the time again and again. She took off one of her heels and pulled it back on, fixing the positioning of her toes and missing Harrison walking out from the Oval Office. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Harrison tilted up Carrie’s chin to meet him, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in tightly. “Did you do your hair differently?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t wash it,” Carrie smiled, pulling away from Harrison before wrapping her own arms around his neck. “Everyone else is already in the dining room, I wanted to see you alone.” 

“How come?”

“I didn’t want to share you right away,” Carrie kissed Harrison, taking his hands into her own. “Sara’s decided to lodge in the bedroom straight across from yours, she said that it looks like a princess room.”

“It’s because she is one,” Harrison kissed Carrie in return. “American royalty.” 

“Where all are you going tomorrow?” 

“I’m delivering a speech in Houston, then I’m in Austin for a campaign rally. I’ll be in Detroit Friday afternoon, then back to Washington to get you.” Harrison started to walk towards the dining room, Carrie holding his hand and walking beside him. 

“You took off your wedding band,” Carrie felt of Harrison’s knuckle on his ring finger, feeling of the smoother skin that had usually been protected by the metal. 

“I don’t have to pretend to be in love with someone else when I’m with you,” Harrison continued walking. “I want to be completely honest with you this time around, and I can’t wear my wedding band privately anymore because of that. Even if it is a habit, I’m not in love with my wife anymore, I only want to be with you.” 

Carrie shook her head, feeling her cheeks grow hot and her lips form a smile, teeth out and lines deepening beside her eyes. Harrison would have never said that five years ago, not even five days ago. She gripped his hand tighter, walking into the dining room before letting go. 

Harrison sat down at the head of the table, a habit that he had kept, and Carrie sat to his right, Sara seated at his left. She had sat beside Jennifer originally, but had swapped seats with Mark as she saw Harrison walk in. 

“I like your hair, who did that?” Harrison asked Sara, feeling the plaits. 

“My mom did it first, but then it fell down so Jennifer fixed it for me.” Sara fixed one of the bobby pins herself as she spoke. “Jennifer is better at hair.” 

“Is that right?” Harrison asked. 

“Yes, I’m awful at it,” Carrie coughed. “I didn’t get the hair braiding gene.”

“Do you have any kids, Harrison?” Sara played with the placemat in front of her as she looked up to Harrison. 

Harrison turned to Carrie, raising his brows and biting his tongue. 

“That’s a very personal question, you shouldn’t ask anyone if they have children or not,” Carrie spoke before Harrison had a chance to. “Some people can’t have children.” 

“So, Harrison, how did you and Carrie become friends again?” Mark spoke up, leaning his head across the table to see Harrison’s face clearly. 

“Mark, I will give you ten dollars to be quiet,” Jennifer rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath and preparing for what was to come. 

“No, I’m being serious, I’m not going to fight the President,” Mark explained to Jennifer, unamused. “Do you even realize how many years that I would face in federal prison?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you…” Jennifer trailed off, turning away from Mark to speak to Peyton. 

“I’m getting divorced in late October, so I obviously needed a divorce attorney for that. One of my aides found Carrie, didn’t let me know that it was her, and we hit it off over lunch at our first meeting,” Harrison said, playing with the cufflinks adorning his wrists. “And I know exactly how you feel about me, don’t worry, I’m not that much of an asshole anymore.” 

Jennifer covered her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter out of disbelief. She hit Mark in the arm, sucking in her lips to not wail out her cackles. “It’s six in the afternoon and we’re already dragging you.” 

The waitress staff began to file into the dining room, carrying alongside themselves the first meal of the night, dropping each plate off carefully, filling up glasses with both water and wine, handing both to everyone, except only granting water to Sara. Carrie poked at the food on her plate, observing some sort of salad with dressing that cost more than the entirety of what she was wearing. 

“I had takeout last night,” Carrie said, watching Harrison begin to eat like the food was normal to him. 

“So did I,” Harrison nodded. “I don’t always eat food from home.” 

Carrie ate in silence, watching the rest of the table talk to each other, Mark and Patrick becoming friends, Jennifer complimenting Peyton’s necklaces, and Sara talking Harrison’s head off. She lost track of what she was doing, instead of digging her fork into the salad Carrie had opted to focus on Sara and Harrison, the two of them laughing together, Sara telling him jokes and Harrison telling another one right back. She had never seen anyone that comfortable around her, because although Jennifer and Mark had known her for her entire life, they didn’t have responsibility over her or any relation, but serving his role as a father to Sara was all that Harrison wanted to do. Harrison tucked the bobby pins on each side of Sara’s head into her hair in a way that Carrie had never seen before, and she noticed that they stuck there instead of slipping down. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” 

“After I saw the pictures of her, I talked to one of my friends who is a hairstylist. I knew that I’d be fixing her hair a lot if I ever got to be in her life,” Harrison whispered to Carrie. “When are you going to tell her?” 

“I was thinking in a few weeks from now, that way she can get to know you more, plus she’s already about to go through a big change with starting school.” Carrie felt her lips form a frown. “I’m not ready for her to start school, she’s growing up too fast.” 

“How do you think that I feel?” Harrison placed his hand onto Carrie’s thigh, his eyes solemn.

“You’re right,” Carrie took a deep breath then let it go, going back to eat her food. “You’re seeing her tonight, at least.” 

“At the end of the day, that’s what matters.” Harrison patted Carrie’s leg, taking a sip of his drink then turning back to talk to Sara again. 

Carrie continued to watch the two of them, waiting for something to go wrong but it never did. 

⇣

Scrubbing off her makeup with the same wash rag as before, Carrie stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She grimaced as her makeup remover got into her eyes, but kept rubbing the makeup off anyway. Harrison was still downstairs, walking everyone out and thanking them for coming and Sara was in the other bedroom, unpacking her bag and playing with two of the dolls that had been stuffed inside. 

Carrie threw her makeup remover into the drawer, hearing the glass bottle clang against everything else. She didn’t want to think about having to wake up early enough in the morning to repack her things. 

“Hey,” Harrison walked in, propping himself against the countertop. “Your friends are hilarious.”

“I hope that they were on their best behavior,” Carrie rolled her eyes. 

“They were, don’t worry.” 

“I have to wake up at six tomorrow morning. Sara starts school at seven-thirty.”

“Speaking of which,” Harrison walked away, leaving Carrie to look at him puzzled, watching him leave the room then peek his head back in. “Come to my office for a minute.” 

Carrie sat down her washrag and followed Harrison into the hallway. She stepped into the office, waiting for Harrison to turn the light on. He opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a bulk package of Expo markers. “Thought you might need these.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Carrie grinned, taking the markers out of Harrison’s hands. “Sara’s going to love that she has these, she was so adamant about getting everything on the list, even the things that the teachers were requesting her to bring even if she didn’t need it.” 

“Then she’ll love this too,” Harrison pulled out a canvas bag, the straps worn from holding up the heavy contents inside. “It’s crayons and markers and pencils, then everything else that I thought she might need. There’s one of those big gallon hand sanitizer dispensers, I know that the teachers usually request some of that.” 

Harrison sat the bag down at Carrie’s feet, leaving it for her to sift through. “I don’t know what to say,” Carrie picked it up, sorting through all of the supplies. “I have a feeling that you’re already her favorite person, and this will just add points to that.” 

“I’m not trying to take that title away from you,” Harrison helped carry everything back to his bedroom. “I just want to be able to support the two of you.” 

“Usually, I’d be far too headstrong to give into that, but I’ve been struggling with money since we moved, so I appreciate it.” Carrie sat down onto the bed, laying back. “My boss is awful about pay, I know that I have to work my way up, but he’s started me out at a salary of twenty-thousand a year. I made more working retail.”

“How much are you going to get from representing me?” 

“He hasn’t talked to me about that yet. I’m a new hire, so he’s in charge of that. Jennifer told me to charge you five years of child support, but when it’s adjusted to your income I’d be robbing you of almost half a million dollars.” 

“And I’d be more than happy to pay it,” Harrison sat down on the bed as well, taking off his watch. “You know that I would.”

“I’d rather you just be here in person to support her, I don’t need your money. Sara can have a great life without living in the lap of luxury, I just want her to have a dad.” 

“Then let her,” Harrison sat his watch onto the bedside table beside Carrie’s pajamas. “You don’t have to be afraid of that.” 

“It’s different for me, I didn’t grow up with a father who I could talk to or that was ever even home. I don’t know how she’ll react because I don’t know how I will either. There aren’t many men like you are, ones that assume responsibility.” 

“Then I guess that we’re just lucky to have found one another again.”

“Stop it,” Carrie felt her emotions well up inside of herself. “Why is it that you always make me cry?”

“Because you need to heal,” Harrison took off his suit jacket and reclined back to meet Carrie in the bed. “No matter how much you trust me, you still see me as the same man that I used to be. I’m not, and you know that I’m not, but you still feel that pain. I can try to help you, but it’s your job to fix those wounds. You have to take your life into your own hands.” 

“God, why do you have to be right all the time?” Carrie sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I’m going to go shower, ponder over that, then I have to talk to Sara about what she should expect for tomorrow.” 

“Stay here, I’ll talk to her for you. Take your shower, I’ll be back before you know it.” Harrison walked out of the room once more, leaving Carrie sitting back on the edge of the bed. 

She turned on the water in the shower, noticing that there was a temperature display just like the one on the bathtub. She turned up the water as hot as it could be, then waited for it to warm. Out of her efforts to unpack all of her toiletries into the bathroom, she had forgotten to bring in her pajamas alongside herself, rolling back her head and swearing beneath her breath. She took a towel from the linen closet and sat it onto the countertop, then proceeded to strip down into nothing, tossing her dress into the dirty clothes, knowing that she could always swing by and grab it. 

As she felt the water hit her back, Carrie took the time to watch the droplets pool on her skin, catching the fine hair of her arms, resting on her chest, and rolling down her abdomen. She scratched her scalp with her fingertips, feeling the built-up grease even with the water. Taking her shampoo, she squeezed the contents directly onto her crown, massaging it into her hair, not caring that the water was likely washing it away just as fast as she had put it on. 

She tilted back her head, feeling the water run down her hair and onto her back, hearing it drip off of the ends of her hair and hit the shower floor, Harrison’s showerhead surprisingly quiet. Carrie ignored using any conditioner as she had forgotten to pack it and took the razor sitting on the ledge to shave her legs, looking at the six blades and realizing that it was more than likely Harrison’s, using it anyway.

The mundane task of shaving led her to think of what Harrison had said minutes before, about how she had to heal herself. She had talked so much about wanting Harrison in her life, wanting him to be there for Sara, but she hadn’t done much about it. Carrie was falling back into her schedule in college, seeing Harrison once or twice a week, avoiding deeper conversations other than paperwork, having sex then going to her roommates to ask them for guidance. She had only spent the night there once, but she knew that she had to do something about it. Sitting the razor back where it came, she sat down in the shower, letting the water hit her front that go around, twisting back her hair with an extra hair tie. 

All that she had wanted was for Harrison to be there, and she wasn’t letting him be there as much as either of them wanted to. It was obvious how well that Sara took to him, spending the entire dinner talking to him, hardly giving him time to talk to Carrie. Sara usually spent dinner time conversing with everyone at the table, joking around with Mark, talking to Jennifer about her day, then watching Carrie as she laughed with the roommates. Sara had spent the whole night with only Harrison, the two of them seemingly isolated in a world entirely their own. While Carrie was in the shower, she knew that Harrison was with Sara again, talking to her about school and life, being the person that Carrie always wanted but never had, and being the father that Sara didn’t know she needed. 

Carrie stepped out of the shower, taking the towel to wring the water from her hair, freezing in the open room, Harrison’s bathroom being triple that of her bedroom at home. She wrapped the towel around her body, wet from her hair but still somewhat warm. Flipping a random switch on the wall, she discovered that the tiled flooring was heated. She hummed in delight, standing beside the shower, feeling the steam leftover from the water hit her face and her feet grow warmer. 

“Forgetting something?” Harrison knocked on the bathroom door. 

Carrie opened it, thanking him as she saw her pajamas in his hands. She quickly changed, tossing the towel into the same hamper that her dress was thrown into. As she brushed her teeth, Harrison walked in again, brushing his own and placing a new towel onto the towel rack. 

“I shower in the morning, don’t think that I’m dirty,” Harrison wiped the toothpaste from his mouth, placing his brush back into the holder. “I usually get up around five-thirty. If you want I can wake you up then and let you sleep in until six.”

“That’d be generous,” Carrie laughed. “I’m so fucking tired, you would not believe it. As soon as I get into bed I’m going to be out.” 

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here to talk to you whenever, don’t stay up for me.” 

Carrie curled up beneath the duvet, taking an extra blanket and wrapping herself into it as well. She took a remote from the nightstand that was for the ceiling fan and used it to turn the fan on low, just cold enough that the room would cool off enough for her to sleep. Harrison was preparing his work for tomorrow, organizing papers on the opposite nightstand and signing off on documents that would be used for the rally that afternoon. 

Carrie could smell Harrison’s cologne and aftershave on the sheets, realizing that he had been sleeping alone for much longer than she originally thought. She wanted to ask if he had been lonely, but she knew that he had thought of her every day for years, and if she wasn’t there in person she was at least living within his memories. 

Harrison eventually climbed under the covers, taking off his t-shirt as he had become hot, rolling up his pajama pants to his ankles. He propped up his pillow too many times, turning it back and forth, hitting it into shape. Carrie wanted to grab his hands and stop him, but she didn’t. Instead, Harrison let himself become comfortable, then grabbed Carrie’s hands, interlacing their fingers as he held her from behind. 

“You’re the best,” Carrie took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I’m excited to go back to New York with you.”

“Me too. I’ve been there so many times since I moved away, and it’s not the same without you there. Obviously you lived there, but I didn’t know that you still did.”

“Now we’re going to experience it how we should have,” Carrie turned over, resting her head onto one of her arms. “Goodnight.” She kissed Harrison before returning back to her original sleeping position, forming herself into a ball and keeping herself warm, unaccustomed to having Harrison’s arms wrapped around her. 

She wasn’t tired enough to sleep, so she kept herself busy with her thoughts of accompanying Harrison to New York. She would fly on his plane, stay in a nice hotel instead of a dorm or a run-down apartment, and she’d get to enjoy the city alongside Harrison again. Carrie kept thumbing through her thoughts, as if her mind was a rolodex of possibilities, and kept her hands busy by tracing swirls onto her pillowcase.

Hearing a knock on the door, Carrie felt her eyes instinctually open, sitting up in bed and feeling around herself. 

“I’m sure that it’s nothing, just the house settling. This place is over 200 years old.” Harrison slung his arm over Carrie’s waist, wanting her to lay back down, knowing that she needed to rest. 

“Wait, I at least want to listen for it again.” Carrie stayed perched in place, hearing the knock a second time. “I’m getting up, it isn’t nothing, I recognize that and the knock is Sara’s.” 

Carrie slid out of the bed, turning on one of the lamps and opening the door. 

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow, it’s going to suck.” Sara had her blanket wrapped around herself. “And I’m afraid to sleep in this weird house.” 

“It’s not a weird house, this is where Harrison lives. But it is big and scary sometimes, so I get it. I didn’t like the day before school starts either.” Carrie walked back to the bed and grabbed a blanket for herself as well. “I’ll be in your room in a second, go back to bed and I’ll sleep with you.” 

She walked back to hug Sara, kneeling down to her level. “I’ll rebraid your hair when I get in there too, I know you want your hair to be curly for tomorrow.” Sara returned to her bedroom, leaving Carrie to grab what she was planning to wear in the morning. 

“You’re a good mom.”

“I don’t think you could call me that,” Carrie took her things from the bathroom and placed them back into her makeup bag. “I try my best, but I’m not that good.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You can recognize the way that she knocks on a door.” 

“And I can recognize your footsteps. What gives?” Carrie took her overnight bag onto her shoulder, getting ready to go into the other bedroom. 

“It shows that you care, just like you said that most men don’t assume responsibility, most women don’t put this much time into a relationship with their child. And I know that for you it’s rough, you didn’t want a kid, you didn’t want to go through with school, but you pushed through, and now you’ve got this daughter that you love more than you love yourself and the means to provide for her.” Harrison sat up in bed as well, watching Carrie pack up her things. “You’re a great mother, I wish that you could see that.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Carrie grinned. “I’ll sleep on the idea. Wake me up at five-thirty still, I’m going to leave the door cracked.” 

⇣

As the car arrived at the Air Force base, Carrie watched the Boeing 747 land, its blue and white detailing becoming a blur as it touched down. She held her luggage in her lap, wheeling it out of the car after the driver opened her door. Her hair blew back in the wind, holding her hands to her ears as the plane began to stop. She had never been that close to a runway before. 

Heatwaves sifted up from the pavement, although the sun was about to set the temperature was still rising, and Carrie pulled at the collar of her t-shirt, wanting to let air through, the air from the plane too warm. She pulled out her phone to take a photo of the plane for Jennifer, immediately pressing send. 

Samuel, the security guard, took Carrie’s bag in one hand and placed the other on her back, guiding her to the steps of the plane that were unfolding. He guided her up the stairs, instructing her to hold the handrail as the steps grew increasingly steep. Carrie looked over to a stewardess and smiled, waving as she welcomed her aboard. 

“Carrie, welcome to Air Force One,” Harrison took Carrie by her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. “I hope that you enjoy your flight.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Carrie kissed him back, taking her luggage from the guard. 

She walked through the rows of seats resembling a typical economy class, running her free hand against the fabric, feeling that it was velvet. Carrie noticed the televisions molded into the backs of each seat, with the armrests each supporting a cup holder, rather than the armrests just being two slim metal sticks. “Am I allowed into the bedroom?” 

“Where else are you going to stay?” Harrison joked. “Is there a flight attendant in your life that I don’t know about?” 

Carrie walked to the very front of the plane, into the nose where the bedroom sat. Harrison’s bed was in the very center, a huge bed positioned into such a small cabin. She could hear the captain speaking on the floor above. 

She rolled her luggage beneath the desk, practically jumping onto the bed, rolling around on the satin comforter. Carrie kicked her feet up, looking for the remote and turning on the television, flipping through the channels and settling for reality tv. Noticing that she was laying on something metal, she pulled out a bomber jacket from beneath her, seeing the zipper imprinted on her sternum where her shirt had rolled up. She looked at the lapel, _Presidential Guest_. 

Carrie tugged on the jacket, a size too large and falling below her waist. Walking over to a mirror, she examined how she looked, smirking at the labeling. 

“What do you think?” Harrison came into his bedroom, locking the door. 

“I think it’s pretty sexy,” Carrie modeled the jacket for Harrison, turning around twice, laughing at her own reflection as she danced. “How did campaigning go?”

“Austin wasn’t as large of a turnout as I had hoped for, but I’m still leading the polls in Texas. Detroit was a whole lot better, we filled up an entire arena.” Harrison opened the minifridge beneath his desk, ignoring Carrie’s luggage and finding a beer. He took his tie clip to pop the cap off. 

“Were you in a fraternity? I’ve never seen someone even attempt whatever the fuck it is that you just did.” 

“I was for two years. I went to my state school for two years, then I transferred to Dartmouth. It’s the only Ivy that parties.” Harrison sat down at the desk, taking a drink. 

“I went to Columbia and I am living proof that they party as well,” Carrie turned down the volume on the television. “We need to get back to working on your divorce, we can’t just hang around each other to kiss.”

“Who says?”

“I say,” Carrie rolled her eyes, playfully sighing. “How do you like Air Force One? I’ve always imagined that flying on this plane would be the best part of the Presidency.” 

“It is,” Harrison shoved the work on top of his desk into a drawer. “But it’s better with you. I finally have someone to enjoy it with. I like flying, whether it be flying my own plane or just being along for the ride.”

“I’ve never flown on a plane before, I just know what they’re supposed to look like from movies.” Carrie played with the zipper on her jacket. “This one is much more luxurious.” 

Carrie sat onto Harrison’s desk, her feet dangling off of it. She ran her fingers through Harrison’s hair, ruining the styling. 

“We’re about to take off again,” Harrison stood up from his chair and sat onto the bed. “This is controlled by Air Force pilots, they’re masters at touch-and-go landings. If I were you I’d lay down on the bed. There’s no feeling like taking off while laying down.” 

“Alright, then I guess I’ll try it.” Carrie bounced down from the desk, taking off her shoes and laying flat on her back, turning her head to look at Harrison. 

“It sounds stupid, but you’ve got to trust me on this,” Harrison laughed. “It’s amazing.” 

Carrie felt the engines turn on, hearing them rev up as the plane began to turn around on the runway, headed North again. The movement of the plane grew faster, and as someone who had never been on a plane before, she didn’t know what to expect when they took off. 

“Are we off the ground yet?” Carrie asked, watching Harrison shake his head. 

“No, you’ll know when we’re in the air, the plane tilts upwards. We’ll also be going over 600 miles an hour, so you’re going to be able to feel it.” 

Harrison was right, because as the plane gained even more speed and lifted, Carrie did feel something. 

She looked back to Harrison, watching his face turn up to the ceiling, him smiling and enjoying such a simple thing, something that she had never thought someone as complex as Harrison would take the time out of his day to do. Her stomach dropped as they went up, but her heart dropped too, though her chest, then back into her throat, and she felt her body grow cold, then warm, then cold again. 

It was a sinking feeling, not in a bad way, but sinking nonetheless. She felt as if her body had melted into the bed, with only the strain on her muscles from her smile holding her up. She had never felt that way before, and she knew that it was from being around Harrison rather than flying on a plane. Carrie took his hand, wanting to say something, but she kept her lips closed, waiting for the plane to steady out again. For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe, and she wondered if Harrison felt the same. 

“What is it?” Harrison furrowed his brows, sitting up onto the side of the bed. “You’re smiling like you’ve gone crazy.” 

“It was fun,” Carrie shrugged her shoulders, holding back the full truth. She continued to look at Harrison, rolling onto her side. She held back what she wanted to say, not completely ready yet, but saying it in her own way. “My life would be so boring without you.” 

“Your life must be really boring if I’m what you’ve been missing. I do paperwork all day every day.” Harrison pulled his work back out of his desk drawer. 

“It was, and now it isn’t.” Carrie laughed, sitting up as well. 

“We’ve got an hour to kill before we arrive, do you want me to give you a tour?” 

“No.” Carrie stated. “I want you to stay here with me. I had a long day. I want you to fix that. Put away your papers and come over to me.” 

“If you insist,” Harrison smirked, crawling back over to the bed, an act that wasn’t difficult, seeing as the room was barely wider than the bed was. “What do you need?” 

“What do I need?” Carrie cupped his jaw with her palm. “What do you think I need? We’re in a bedroom on a plane. I want to have sex with you. The mile-high club sounds really fucking fun.” 

“Fucking fun.” Harrison tittered. 

“Well, it is.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “No, but really. Give me a tour, show me your office, do whatever you want. It’s your trip too.” 

“I have work to do,” Harrison said. “But come find me in thirty minutes. I’ll be in my office, it’s the room right before this one. Can’t miss it.” 

“Alright, then I'll look forward to it.” 

Carrie sat up from the bed, tugging back on her shoes and unzipping her jacket. She undid the lock on the door, Harrison following her into the next room over. He put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest, running his fingers through her hair to mess it up just as she had done to his. 

She continued walking, avoiding eye contact with the staff seated in the aisles, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than she had already. Carrie didn’t know whether anyone that worked with Harrison knew about the two of them, and she didn’t want to know either. 

Opening up one of the doors that was cracked, she found a kitchen, fully stocked with meals prepared for the flight. Carrie stood on her toes, reaching into the top cabinet, opening it and finding paper napkins with the Presidential seal stamped onto the center. She folded three carefully, deciding to take them home as souvenirs. She turned back around, leaving the room and closing the door completely. 

Carrie had never seen a movie in which the plane had stairs, so she followed them, observing the second floor of the plane, knowing of nothing more than the cockpit being there. There was nothing to write home about, spare the briefing room that she found resembling something out of World War II. She went down the stairs, walking back to the aisles of seats, sitting down and searching for what movies were playing on the mounted televisions, giving up after scrolling through four pages of movies she had already seen on Netflix. 

Her hands played with the doorknob outside of Harrison’s office out of boredom, Carrie contemplating whether to walk in or not, unsure of how much time had already passed. She finally opened the door, hearing it click open and seeing Harrison at his desk, looking stressed per usual. He was writing down notes onto a sheet of paper, scrawling quickly with a felt tip pen. Harrison looked up to Carrie as she walked in, watching her take a seat in the chair beside his table. 

“Look, Maria, I’ve got to call you back. I’ll let you know more about my speech in the morning,” Harrison sat down his pen and stopped working. “Something just came up that I need to take care of. Alright, I’m going.” 

“Who was that?” Carrie outstretched her arms onto the desk, resting her head on her forearms. 

“She’s the Secretary-General of the UN.” Harrison stated, filing the paper that he was writing notes on away, sticking the file into a drawer. “I was talking to her about tomorrow.”

“Come hang out with me, I don’t know anyone else on this plane.” Carrie pleaded, watching Harrison start to laugh. “I’m serious.” She played with the zipper of her jacket, sliding it up then down again and again. 

“If you want me to do that, you’re going to have to stop moving that zipper down, I won’t have anything to take off of you.” 

“See, this is what I wanted,” Carrie pulled her chair closer to Harrison, tilting her head onto his shoulder. She took her hands off from the table, wrapping one arm around Harrison’s back and placing her opposite hand onto his knee. “I haven’t seen you in three days, and this week has been one of the roughest weeks that I’ve ever had to live. I had to watch our daughter go to school for the first time, I cried on my way home. It sucks to see your kids stop needing you.” 

“Carrie, she’s five.” Harrison ran one of his hands to the back of Carrie’s neck, rubbing away her tension. “You have years to be with her.”

“I know, it’s just difficult.” Carrie tried to smile. “Then, my idiot fucking boss got mad at me today. He told me that I’m not typing fast enough, ranted to me for about twenty minutes about that. If he wanted to hire someone who would type fast then he should’ve hired a paralegal.” 

Harrison held Carrie closer to him, sighing and brushing his fingers through her hair, this time without the motive to ruin how she had styled it. Carrie roped her body to meet Harrison’s at first only staying there for comfort, but quickly moved her lips up to his neck, waiting to reach his jaw before pulling away and smiling. She took one of her fingernails and tucked it into the knot of Harrison’s tie, noticing that it was her favorite tie that he wore. Undoing the knot, she slipped the tie from under Harrison’s collar, laying it onto her own shoulders. 

“You’re really good at this,” Harrison grinned, holding his hand on the small of Carrie’s back as she shifted her body weight, moving her thighs onto Harrison’s lap. 

“Thanks, I’ve had some practice since the last time we were in an office like this.” She smirked, taking the liberty to undo the top button on Harrison’s shirt. 

“I have a bed, you know,” Harrison pushed Carrie away, taking hold of her shoulders. “That’d be more comfortable.” 

“Sure, I don’t know how plane sex works.” Carrie laughed, walking out of the office door before Harrison could guide her out. 

She slipped off her shoes again, tucking them beneath the bed and pushing back the sheets. “Glad that you could finally join us,” Carrie smiled, seeing Harrison walk in five minutes later.

“I was finishing my work up,” Harrison kneeled onto the bed, kicking off his own shoes as well. He took off his suit jacket, folding it haphazardly and placing it onto the floor. 

Taking his hands to the collar of Carrie’s jacket, he ran his fingertips beneath the tank top beneath her shirt, popping the elastic back onto her skin before taking her jacket off. He pushed it back, the satin of the jacket falling down her shoulders, Carrie wiggling the rest of it off of her arms. He kept his tie on her shoulders, the strip of fabric hanging loosely onto her collarbones, avoiding moving it as he took her t-shirt off. Harrison moved his hands to Carrie’s back, reaching under her tank top for her bra, feeling that there was not one there. 

“You’re funny,” Carrie smiled, taking off her tank top herself and laying onto Harrison, pushing him to lay back with her bare chest laying on top of him and her jeans rubbing pills into his cotton slacks. She kissed him before she felt Harrison start to move her onto her back. 

⇣

Landing, Carrie felt her ears begin to ache. She heard from Jennifer to chew gum, or to swallow hard, but ignored that in the moment. Carrie sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes, wondering if she had slept at all, forgetting how long that the flight was supposed to have taken. 

She removed the sheets from her body, taking her t-shirt and pulling it back on, tossing her tank top aside and remembering to stuff it into her suitcase. She tugged back on her jeans, standing up and looking for her bomber jacket, finally finding it on the back of the desk chair. Carrie zipped it on, rolling her luggage out and trailing it behind her, sliding on her shoes from beneath the bed. 

“Why do you even need two desks?” Carrie found Harrison in the hallway, roping his tie back onto his neck, noticing that she still had it on her shoulders. “Is one for notes and the other one to sit there and look pretty?” 

“I didn’t design this plane, blame the Clinton’s.” Harrison took his tie out from Carrie’s hands and tied it back himself, not wanting to let her know that she didn’t know how to properly knot it. “I need a shower, but we're close to landing.” 

“I need one too,” Carrie rubbed away sweat from behind her ears. “I didn’t know that you even had a shower on here.” 

“I’ve got everything I need here.” Harrison took Carrie’s hands, kissing her forehead, not wanting her to strain her feet to raise up to her toes to kiss him. “You’re going to love the hotel room.” 

“I hope so,” Carrie walked into the main sector of the plane, lifting the shades of one of the windows. Seeing nothing but the lights of office buildings and bridges, she knew that they were close. 

Harrison helped Carrie roll her luggage out of the plane, the friendly stewardess from before seemingly out of sight, and guided her to the car that was waiting for them. He attempted to open the door to the limousine, but one of his security guards opened it for him. Carrie stepped into the car first, handing over her luggage for someone to toss it into the trunk. 

She turned her phone on, having to shut it off on the plane. She checked for missed messages and texted Jennifer to ask her how it was in Texas. Harrison started talking to his driver, using words that Carrie had never heard, speaking about how his campaign was going and the speech he would be presenting in the morning. Carrie wanted to ask him more about his life in the years that they were apart, but remained silent as one of Harrison’s staffers stepped into the vehicle. 

Carrie sat in the middle seat, between Harrison and his staffer, leaning back her head to catch a glimpse of their surroundings from the back window, ignoring the tint that made it almost impossible. She watched as the car drove through the winding roads leading into Manhattan, the island that Carrie hadn’t left until that July. Running her nails beneath each other, she waited for the car to stop in traffic but it never did, Harrison's driver trained well enough to bypass the well-traveled streets. 

“Where are we staying?” Carrie spoke up, trying to recognize where they had stopped.

“I don’t know, I think we’re in a hotel next door to the UN, but I’m not sure.” He stepped out of the vehicle, waiting to move again until another car pulled up behind him, Carrie noticing that Samuel was no longer a simple guard, but as they had traveled he assumed the role of a Secret Service agent, trailing in front of Harrison with more men to each side. Harrison kept the door open for Carrie, waiting for her to follow him inside.

“I went to a birthday party here once,” Carrie recognized the building, making a note of what street they were on. “It was right after you left. Jennifer’s birthday is in March.” 

“How was it?” Harrison turned to Carrie, waiting for their group to get buzzed in. 

“It was alright, it was only the two of us and our friends, which at the time included my freshman year roommate. Do you remember Jillian? She was insufferable.” Carrie shook her head, grabbing her luggage as it was handed to her, following Harrison into a hallway leading to a private elevator. “She moved out of our dorm a week or so later, she and Mark were dating then they broke up, and since he and I were so close she knew that he’d be visiting.”

“How was that semester? I mean, I did create a rocky start for you.” Harrison laughed, growing quiet as they piled into the elevator, waiting to talk to her until they arrived at their room. 

“I don’t think that I’ve ever been more stressed in my life. In November I chose to schedule all of the core classes that I was dreading for that semester, just to get them out of the way. Then, you know, life had other plans for me. Thanks to you Sara had me sick for four months straight, which meant that all I could do was try to keep myself healthy for her and to do eight hours of schoolwork each night.” Carrie playfully rolled her eyes, opening the door to their room and hanging her jacket onto a coat rack. “But, as we know I graduated with some honors, and Sara was born that July, so I made it through that semester. The rest of school was so easy compared to that. I had personal shit going on for the rest of college, but I don’t think that any of it could compare to that semester.” 

“You could’ve emailed me and I would’ve helped you out.”

“No, absolutely not.” She laughed, sitting down in a loveseat near the window, kicking her feet up on one of the arms of the chair. 

“I really fucked it all up for you.”

“Harrison,” Carrie sighed, sitting up. “Stop telling me about how you ruined things for me or that anything bad that happened to me was your fault. I’m my own person, I’m responsible for my actions. And if I ever say something about you then I’m joking.” 

She stood up and walked to her luggage, taking out pajamas and unfolding them. Carrie held the shirt up to herself, making sure that it would still fit, and began to pull off the t-shirt that she was wearing. Harrison tapped her shoulder, making Carrie turn around. 

“I just can’t help myself from thinking that I took away your twenties.” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you shirtless.”

“When will we ever have it? I feel like shit because when I was in college I was partying and doing whatever I wanted to, and you were doing the work of two parents to raise a child and working towards a good enough application to get into law school. You’re fourteen years younger than I am, and when I think about you, I think about you being the same age and same level of maturity that I am, but you’re not.” Harrison tried to maintain eye contact with Carrie as she tugged her shirt onto her neck. “You were twenty years old and a single mother, in college, and with no job and no one to financially support you. You had a child that you didn’t want and the plan to go into a career that you hated. How could you have enjoyed anything?” 

Carrie felt her brows twitch as she looked to Harrison, her jaw dropped and herself puzzled. She tried to form a sentence that would shut Harrison up, to make him feel like he wasn’t a burden to her. “What the fuck?” Carrie went through her mind trying to recount anecdotes, but at the moment came up with nothing. “How is that your fault? It was my decision to go into law, I didn’t want to, but I decided to because I needed to make money. And don’t think for a second that there was ever a time that I didn’t want our child. I wasn’t prepared for that, but there was never a doubt in my mind that I was going to love her. After the shock wore off and you and my mom yelled at me over it, I was actually happy. I knew that I’d be a mother eventually, why not get the hard years over earlier? I love Sara, and I love that you gave her to me.” 

Carrie ignored the conversation, putting on sweatpants and sitting onto the bed. “You didn’t ruin anything. You didn’t waste my twenties, you’d have to be crazy to think that. The past few years have been the best years of my entire life. I’ve lived with my best friends, and for the most part, I lived with them here, in New York. We were able to scrape by and save to the point that I didn’t leave the island of Manhattan for almost five years. I’ve only ever been to Brooklyn once. It’s been really hard to keep my life together, but it doesn’t mean that I haven’t enjoyed it. Sara’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m happy. I’ve always been happy with her. Even if you had taken away those years of my life, which, I promise that you didn’t, that wouldn’t have been my twenties. I’m turning 26 in October, I’m only halfway done.” 

“Stop doubting yourself and stop being mad at yourself for not being there. There was no way that we would have ended up together, you were traveling the United States, I was still in school, you were married. It was an affair then, and even though it doesn’t feel like it, legally, it still is now. We talk about this too much. Accept that you wouldn’t have been able to be there like you wanted to be, even if I had told you the truth.” 

“You’ve taught me more than I could have ever taught you,” Harrison stood next to Carrie’s luggage, leaning onto the door. “What else don’t I know about you?”

“Not much,” Carrie laughed. “I named Sara after the Fleetwood Mac song, I don’t think that counts as something about me though.” 

“Why did you do that?” Harrison asked, walking over to sit beside Carrie. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just that I’ve never heard the song before.” 

“About a week or so before she was born I was going through a lot of things in my life. I didn’t know if I would have housing next semester, or if I would be moving in with Jennifer and Mark, or if I would have to try to find my own place. The deal for our first apartment fell through. Then Jennifer was out of town and didn’t know if she’d be back in time. I was worried about school, and I was worried about being a mom, and I really did not want to have to juggle school and that.” Carrie pulled her legs onto the bed to sit with her feet crossed, playing with the ties on her pants as she told the story. “I heard the song that day, and I connected with the lyrics. I looked it up online and it’s about Stevie Nicks’ affair with Mick Fleetwood. It was also about when she was pregnant, and she had an abortion but she was going to name the child Sara if it turned out to be a girl. I got emotional, I don’t know why, probably because I felt like my life was falling apart, but you and I had an affair, and I knew we were having a daughter, so I went with it.” 

“What’s her middle name?”

“Jen.” Carrie smiled, making a soft fist and holding Harrison’s hand. “For Jennifer.” 

“Did she end up making it there?” Harrison took both of Carrie’s hands, holding them and rubbing his thumbs into her palms. 

“Oh yeah, she wouldn’t miss it for the world. She’s the one who bought the Titanic tapes.”

Harrison stood up, walking to the closet and opening his own suitcase, already driven there in a car ahead of the limousine. He changed into sweatpants as well, forgoing a t-shirt. Making sure that his wedding band was in one of the pockets, knowing that he would have to wear it tomorrow, Harrison wheeled the luggage back into the closet, closing the door and climbing back onto the bed. 

“I need to call Mark and see how things are at home.” Carrie took her phone out of her pocket, dialing Mark’s number, and while waiting for him to answer the phone she tucked herself beneath the sheets. 

Harrison watched as Carrie talked to Mark, laughing at his jokes and asking about his day. Her eyes wrinkled as she smiled, talking to Sara once Mark had passed the phone, telling her how much she loved and missed her, and how much she wanted to be home. He watched as Carrie’s cheeks grew higher when she spoke, genuinely happy to be on the phone. He felt the feeling that he always had when he was around her, safe, and he wondered if she felt the same. 

⇣

As Carrie opened the curtains blocking out the view from their hotel room, she stood on an air vent, growing cold as her feet molded to the metal. She parted the curtains just enough to catch a glimpse outside, realizing that she was on a much higher floor than she originally anticipated. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the city skyline had adapted to dawn, less lights lit in windows, and a blue shadow encasing the buildings. 

She rolled her fingertips on the glass window, ignoring the smudges, trying to wake herself up. She didn’t know when Harrison would be awake or when they would plan to leave, but there was no use in going back to bed. Carrie closed the window, walking to her luggage and rolling it into the bathroom, muttering explicits as the wheels made noise switching from the carpet on to marble. 

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror showed that her hair was stringy and oily, a far cry from how it looked before the plane, whether that be from passion, pressurization, or pollutants. Carrie found a comb in her suitcase, running it through her hair and snarling at its dismay, finally opting to dip her head under the faucet and to run water through, forgetting shampoo and not bothering to grab a travel size bottle from the shower caddy.

She took a hand towel from its rack and wrapped the majority of her hair into it, knowing that the small bits left out would dry on their own, not wanting to waste a towel used for someone’s body. She unzipped her suitcase fully, searching through the folds of clothing for something to wear, packing something that fit into business attire and another outfit that was casual. 

Carrie pulled a halter top over her chest, wrapping a loosely knitted cardigan over her shoulders and rolling the cuffs on a pair of jeans. She rotated the rings on her fingers and the necklace clasped to her neck, finally unwrapping her hair and brushing it straight. She walked over to the bathtub, observing the window above it and pulling up the blinds, letting the faint sunlight spread into the room. Using her fingers to sweep on taupe eyeshadow, she heard footsteps behind the door, knowing that Harrison was now awake. 

“You can come in,” Carrie continued to put on her makeup, gingerly using the products, not in the mood to look anything other than natural. “Am I going in with you? I don’t look like I’m ready to address the world.”

“You are, but you’re not going to be seen with me, so you could be wearing sweatpants for all that it matters.” Harrison stood at the second sink, running the water and letting it soak into a washrag. “We have to be out in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes? You just crawled out of bed.” Carrie took her suitcase off the counter and rolled it towards the doorway. “Good luck.”

“I have my ways, but thanks anyways.”

Carrie walked out of the bathroom, sitting on the bed, mulling about ideas of what to do to pass the time. She moved towards the desk, sitting on top of it and dialing Jennifer’s number on the hotel phone. 

“Good morning,” Carrie said into the mouthpiece, waiting for Jennifer’s response. “Did I wake you up?”

“Carrie, it’s seven in the morning on a Saturday. Why are you awake?” Jennifer laughed. “But no, you didn’t wake me up, we just landed here in Texas. 

“Right,” Carrie sighed, tugging at the frayed edges of her jeans seams. “How is it?”

“Humid? I don’t know, we’re in the airport.”

“Mmm, well, I think that I’ll be back Sunday if all goes well.” Carrie covered the phone, tossing Harrison’s tie to him, watching it fly across the room and miss his hands. “We’ve got to leave the hotel soon, I’ll have my cellphone on me if you need me though.”

She hung up, placing the phone back to its stand and saving Jennifer’s number into it. Carrie took her own phone from the nightstand and slipped it into her back pocket, putting on her shoes and preparing to leave, waiting for Harrison to finish inserting his cufflinks. 

They walked together in a similar stride into the hallway, waiting for the elevator to reach their level, then riding it down to the lobby, Carrie taking a few steps back as Harrison was met with his people, not wanting to get in their way. She felt herself lagging behind, knowing that nothing good could come out of someone recognizing how they were linked together. 

Carrie continued to follow two steps behind Harrison, waiting for them to clear the alleyway and reach their vehicle. She slid into the car, sitting closest to the walls, feeling the brushed fabric through her cardigan. “We could have walked, the building is right around the corner.” 

“I can’t walk anywhere,” Harrison grasped his seatbelt, snapping the buckle into the socket as they began to move. “I wish I could though, it’s nice out today.”

“It’s barely dawn, I think that it’ll storm,” Carrie placed her head on the window. “Why are we talking about the weather?” 

They continued to travel forward, up a street, over an avenue. Carrie held back the urge to start anything physical, seeing Harrison’s hand resting beside her thigh, wanting to grab it but still feeling as if he was intangible. She heard the car doors unlock as they stopped traveling, reaching to undo her seatbelt but noticing that she had neglected to put hers on. She adjusted her top, pulling up the top strap, and was the first one out, walking to the front of the car to wait for Harrison, knowing that he would be ushered inside fast enough that she didn’t have to worry about her being seen with him. She looked around, shrugging as she knew no one was there, that no one would know that Harrison was giving a speech today. Carrie picked at her nails absentmindedly, tugging at a hangnail, ignoring the sound of the door closing. 

She watched for Harrison to walk up to her, but watched as one of his protectors took his arm, turning him to face the car again, wanting for him to climb back in. Carrie furrowed her brows, looking around the street they were on again. 

Carrie started to walk back to the backseat, to open the door and slip inside as Harrison was going to. 

He stayed out of the car, reaching out to Carrie to take her arm, to drag her inside and to keep her away from any harm, unsure of what was happening but sure enough of her. She looked away from him, back to the buildings, the open window above them, seemingly no one around, just as she had seen before.

“You have to get inside!” One of Harrison’s men took his shoulder, trying to cut in front of him, failing as Harrison pushed him out of the way. 

She felt as he ran into her, hearing a sound that she had never heard before, not knowing if it was their bodies hitting the side of the car as they collided, her necklace hitting the metal, or something else entirely, not registering how loud that it was. Carrie instinctively covered her ears, snaking herself out of Harrison’s way quickly, so fast that she had almost forgotten they had ever touched. Looking down to the ground, seeing what had hit between them, grazing past her shoulder and being unable to penetrate the car, Carrie grabbed it in her hand, observing it in the light, not knowing what she had found.

The same sound came again, stopping her in her tracks, knowing that she wanted to move back into the car, even underneath it out of instinct, but being blocked by Harrison’s kneecaps. He pushed her down, pressing her face into the ground as he tried to move her away. Harrison reached down to move her out, to shove her into the backseat to be with someone else, mistakenly placing his arm into the line of fire. 

Carrie thrusted Harrison off of her, standing herself up but falling back to her knees, too afraid to move her legs, her knees planted into the concrete. “Get off of me.”

She tasted sweat that she didn’t know she had, felt anger inside herself that she couldn’t place, and could see the blood soaking through the knees of her jeans from hitting the concrete but couldn’t feel any pain.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You were supposed to come back inside.” Harrison wrapped his arms around the back of her thigh, trying to pick her up, his body failing him on the first round. “You have to stand up. Do you hear me? You have to get back in the car.”

Carrie remained planted, not for minutes nor for seconds, standing up almost instantly, but in her time down she tried to conceptualize what was happening. She wanted to run her fingers through her hair, to shout out a question, but she couldn’t think of anyone but herself, but of her and Harrison and the ground they were on, the noise that she had heard repeating through her head, circling between her ears but making no sense, the sense of danger without a cause, not knowing anything that happened or would. Jennifer didn’t run across her mind, she knew Mark was safe at home, and before she could think of Sara - doing so last to save pain if she truly was in danger - she came to her feet. 

She stood up again, wanting to kick back as Harrison pressed her against the door of the car, waiting for it to open and to shove her inside. Carrie watched as the world flew by in flashes, not knowing what had happened, what had hit between them, where it went the second time. She could smell the tar from the tires of other cars racing to the street, and for the first time noticed the tapping sound, as if someone was hitting a typewriter, but louder than that, something dropping, then the clanking of metal into the car again afterwards, and before that an earth-shattering noise, her ears ringing and the world around her pulsating, for the first time understanding that a gun had been cocked from the open window. 

With shaky arms she drew Harrison into the vehicle, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to throw him in, her adrenaline overpowering her physical weakness. He crashed on top of her lap, falling into the floorboard, sitting up and grabbing her knees. 

“You’re hurt, there’s blood on your jeans, oh my God I’ve hurt you,” Harrison tried to roll up Carrie’s jeans further, wishing for stretch fabric, giving up and taking her hands, feelings of her palms, for the first time stinging, Carrie noticing the indents from the concrete. 

“Someone almost shot you, you have larger things to worry about than me having a scrape.” Carrie tried to look out the window, stopping herself, not wanting to take her focus away from Harrison sitting in front of her. 

“I was trying to protect you, to get you lower,” Harrison ran his hands up her forearms, feeling for any scratches and finding nothing. “You were supposed to get in the car when I was motioned in, you were supposed to follow me.” 

“No one ever told me that,” Carrie took her arms away, staring at her hands in the light, taking spit on her index finger and rubbing off tarmac. “But you’re okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay, I almost killed you. If you weren’t here with me you would be safe at home.” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” Carrie felt her hands begin to shake, clasping them together in an attempt to stop them. “I’m just freaked out, I’ve never had that happen before.” 

She felt her body grow warmer, anxiety growing from her stomach to her heart, bypassing her blood and traveling to her throat, her body shaking and her eyes watering without the feeling of precursing tears. Carrie wrapped her arms around herself, taking off her cardigan and reusing it to be a shawl. She felt the air in her lungs weaken, her body grow cold then warm again, trying to grab onto Harrison in any way possible, but how ever much that she shaked equaled her inability to move forward. 

“Come here, come down here, at least put your arms on my shoulders,” Harrison took Carrie’s hands to pull her down to his level, the floorboards in the limousine big enough to sit the both of them. She refused to move, wanting to be there with him and to hold him in her hands, but her body kept her in her seat, the instinctual urge to freeze still weighing heavily on her conscience. 

Carrie managed to move to the edge of her seat, doing so carefully, the mix of anxiety and the car beginning to pick up speed, zipping through the streets to somewhere hidden, making her stomach flip, having to swallow to keep her bile down. She placed her palms on Harrison’s shoulders, gripping him tightly, wanting to cry, to show any emotion other than blankness, not registering his face in front of her as anything more than a moving image. Her fingertips began to caress his suit jacket, an attempt to feel something, to touch anything to pull her out of this state. 

“You’ve done this much, come down with me,” Harrison watched as Carrie still did nothing. “I’m sorry.” 

She slid off the front of the seat as the vehicle came to a hard stop, the traffic light in front of them turning to red, then back to green, throwing her to hit the seat with her back. Her hands came off of Harrison’s shoulders, and as she turned to look at her palms again, to notice if the scrapes had become worse or better, she saw a pool of blood run off of her right hand and down her arm, dripping into the crease of her elbow. “This isn’t my blood.” Carrie examined the scrape, knowing that the one on her right hand hadn’t drawn blood at all, only nicking the skin and bruising over. 

“Harrison,” Carrie outstretched her arm, seeing Harrison’s eyes trail from her elbow to her fingers, then up to his own shoulder. “Take off your jacket.” 

Harrison took off his right sleeve, then rotated his shoulder to remove his left, feeling his arm get stuck halfway, his right hand moving to finish the job, his fingers touching the same place that Carrie had, noticing what was there. The rip in his jacket had remained unseen, the shirt underneath the same shade of black, but once he was left with only a button up he realized that it had become torn, not by his movement but from the movement of a secondary object. 

“I couldn’t feel it… I can’t feel it. I was trying to make sure that you were okay, I was trying to protect you-” 

Carrie cut Harrison off, turning to one of his staffers sitting next to her, working through her shaky voice to yell to turn around, that there was a hospital a few blocks away, that there would be nothing good of trying to find somewhere safe. 

“You got shot. I don’t care if you were trying to protect me, you got fucking shot.” Carrie felt her hands scrambling around on the floor, not looking for anything but something to hold onto and to release her anxiety. “Forget your adrenaline, you didn’t even know that you were hurt. What are we supposed to do?” 

“Turn around, listen to her!” Harrison tried to motion to his driver, turning back his arm to give directions, then immediately clasping his freehand on his shoulder. “It’s like it’s numb.” 

“No shit,” Carrie took her cardigan off, straightening it out to wrap around Harrison’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you get in the car?”  
  


“Because,” Harrison pushed away the fabric, unbuttoning his shirt halfway, not eager to see the full damage. “I was told to get inside because they saw something, I wasn’t going to leave you out there. I’m the target, but if you’re with me, then so are you.” 

“What are the chances that some crazy guy in New York is going to see me, and not the President, and be like, wow, let's shoot his assistant? None of them.” Carrie sighed, taking hold of Harrison’s hand, squeezing it to make sure he could still feel that. “Why did you do that? Because you were told to?”

“Carrie,” Harrison paused, pursing his lips, playing with one of his cufflinks. “I love you.” 

She dropped Harrison’s hand from her own, her fingers slightly twitching as she felt herself relax, her heartbeat still impossibly fast, ignoring the steady thumping in her ears. She felt for the words to say in return, knowing how simple that it would be, to say three words, a syllable each. Carrie wanted to ask if he was lying, or if this was something in the spur of the moment, but she knew that it wasn’t, that what she had felt for Harrison was the same emotion that he felt towards her, the months spent in his office were nothing but lust, and each time that she had called it love she was mistaken. If she reached far enough, she could pretend that the air around them was the cotton bedding from Harrison’s loft, she could smell the earthy scent of his wooden desk, the dust from his library books. Her abdomen felt the phantom touch of a sweater being tugged down, her fingertips were sore from gripping pens and flipping pages. Sara’s curls stretching with a brush, holding her, having to stop. Instead of the rings she wore on his fingers, she shivered from the cold napkin ring she took off while waiting to see him again, and could feel the scratchy mask on her face from the party. The soft, worn paper that held the first photo of Sara that she had let Harrison hold, the leather of the chairs in his office, the rough porcelain on his bathroom tiles, his hair and his skin, could see herself in the reflection of his glasses that he wasn’t wearing. 

She saw through herself, she saw through him. And that love wasn’t wanting to be with someone, but to _be_ with someone, to exist and to know their vices and virtues. Not themselves but their life, what they wore, the way the fabric felt, their opinions, and then what shaped them. 

“I,” Carrie stuttered, trying not to mess up her connotation, trying not to sound fake. “I love you, too.” Her cheeks hid her eyelids, the dimple beneath her lips grew, her toothless smile grew teeth. 

“I should have told you sooner, something could have happened, not even this, some freak accident. You would have never known.” 

“I knew.” Carrie shook her head. “Don’t take this as cliche, don’t think that I’m only saying this to say it. You look at me like you know everything about me. And you don’t, but at the same time you do. You know everything that is important, you caused all of it. When I came to see you the night after we met again, you listened to me, you asked questions, too many, but you wanted to know if I was okay. I’ve never seen any pain like the pain that I saw from you when I showed you those pictures, Hell, I’ve seen you today, and you’re probably going to be in a lot of fucking pain once this energy wears off. What I want you to know is that I knew you did, I’d just never had anyone say that to me before, I didn’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

⇣

Carrie stood in the hallway, her back resting flat on the brick walls, staring at the payphone attached to the wall, knowing that Jennifer was only a call away. She had her number memorized, even entering it into the hotel room’s phone, but didn’t want to call. There was no way of knowing that anyone else knew, she hadn’t looked up to any of the televisions in the hospital since she had arrived, and her own phone had slipped out of her pocket somewhere between the back entrance of the UN and the fifteenth floor of Lenox Hill Hospital. There was a smoke shop across the street from the hospital, a horrible placement but an escape for Carrie to put her thoughts into, to take a package of Marlboro cigarettes, the same kind she smoked in high school, inhaling the tobacco and letting go of anything else that was happening. She was tempted to leave, just to make a run for it and to relax outside, but she knew that she had become a liability. 

Asking for four quarters from someone else in the waiting room, Carrie emptied them into the payphone, dialing Jennifer’s number, listening to a dial tone that she hadn’t heard since her childhood. 

“How’s Texas?” Carrie twirled the cord around her fingers, tugging on it with her teeth then spitting it away, remembering that she was in a hospital. 

“Do you know how many times that I have tried to call you in the past hour and a half? Are you okay?” 

“I lost my phone,” Carrie sighed. “Why’d you call?”

“Why do you think that I called? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did you get shot?” Jennifer listed off her questions, no breaths between her sentences. 

“I’m fine, we’re at the hospital, only one of us got shot, don’t worry about it.”

“I want you to know that I’m watching CNN right now, and nowhere on here has anyone said that he got shot,” Jennifer spoke fast, her voice growing louder and louder. 

“I can’t see any of that! I don’t have modern technology on me right now. I’m on a payphone.” Carrie tugged at her waist, pulling up her jeans and wincing from the pain. “I want you to know that I’m safe. I don’t know when I’m going to be home, if I think that I’m going to be here after Sunday then I’ll go home instead. Nothing happened to me, except I scraped my knees and I’m pretty shaken.” 

“You need to go home. You don’t need to be there with him, I know that you think you’re safe, and you probably are, but you need to be careful.” 

“I’m going home when I can, which is going to be Sunday if all goes well.” Carrie sighed, swallowing hard. “Has Mark called you?”

“No, but I know the second that he wakes up he will.” Jennifer checked the time, adding an hour to it. “You could have died. What would we do here? Sara?”

“I’ve thought of that for too long already,” Carrie played with a rubberband on her wrist, snapping it. “I don’t want to talk about that, I can’t think about her losing me, or either of us for that matter. I was going to tell her Wednesday night but I didn’t get the chance.” 

“I don’t know what to say except that I’m happy to hear your voice, that I know you’re alright enough to talk to me.” 

“I’m sorry that you were worried about me. We’re both going to be okay. He’s in surgery, it tore through a muscle. They don’t know if there’s any nerve damage or not, seeing as he lost some mobility but not enough due to the adrenaline.” Carrie tried to recall what all she had been told, unable to retain information as she was still on the brink of panic. “I think I’m mostly just stunned, I almost had a panic attack in the car.”

“How long is recovery?”

“Four weeks and he should be fine, but if it’s any nerve damage it’s about six months,” Carrie picked at the abrasion on her palm. “None of this would have happened if he didn’t try to get me into the car. I doubt that they’d try to do anything to me, I’m just some random woman. He kept trying to get me in and I wasn’t understanding the situation, if he had gone into the backseat when he was told to then we’d be fine. Emotional jarred, of course, but neither of us would have any physical damage.”

“Did he tell you why he did that?” Jennifer asked, still tense from the news, clenching her jaws.

“Yeah,” Carrie smiled, lowering her voice. “He said that he loves me. I’ve never had anyone say that to me.” 

Carrie heard Jennifer set down her phone, laughing as she waited for a response. “Carrie!”

“Well, what else was I supposed to say? That he told me why but I can't tell you?”

“No, it’s just that he said it first. He doesn’t even know what emotions are.” Jennifer’s enthusiasm traveled through the phone. 

“I know, that’s what makes it special.” Carrie smirked. “I don’t know if I want to call Mark, because if I did I’d talk to Sara, and I’m not ready for that. She could have lost her mother, and even though I would be dead I’d still feel like shit for it.” Someone shushed Carrie as she muttered the profanity, forgetting that there were children in the waiting room as well. 

“I’ll call him for you, I’ll let him know everything that went on, just call me back if you want me to relay anything to him. I wish that you weren’t in such a dire situation right now and that I wasn’t so far away. We could be gossiping together and talking about you two being in _love_ now.” 

“Yeah, I do too,” Carrie sighed. “I’ll call you back later, I think I’m going to the giftshop, to buy a book or something. I don’t have a purse on me, so I could ask them if they’d charge it to his bill. Seven dollars isn’t much in relation to surgery.” 

“Call me, I’ll be here.” Jennifer hung up the phone, leaving Carrie to hear the dial tone once more. 

Carrie found the elevator, forgetting exactly where it was, the act of coming into the hospital, through hidden hallways and dimly lit stairwells, had made it difficult to recount its location. She pressed the button signaling the first floor, rocking her hips to the handrail and feeling as the elevator traveled, feeling her stomach rise in her throat. 

She walked into the gift shop, taking a card off of a stand and reading the message inside, going through multiple ones just out of curiosity. As she turned the corner to see the books, a mix of young adult fiction and medical texts, she saw a small television turned to CNN, a commercial currently on. Carrie turned up the volume, walking to the front desk with a random book that she had selected and a water bottle in hand. 

“Can you charge these to a bill?” Carrie sat her things into the counter, trying to listen for what the news was presenting. “I’m here to see someone and I’ve left my wallet at our hotel.” 

“You’re that person that the President was with.” The cashier nodded, pointing to Carrie.

“I am,” Carrie nodded as well. “That’s not important though, but if you could add this to his bill somehow then that would be great.” 

“Watch the video, I bet they’re going to replay it soon. His people were all over him and he wouldn’t move until you did.” 

“Oh, I know, I was there.” Carrie said, playing with the cap on the water bottle. “But I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me if it’s feasible to add this to the bill. And maybe how you know what I look like and how there is a video.” 

“I don’t know, you were just there.” She took Carrie’s items and scanned them, bagging them and handing them back. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Thanks,” Carrie tied the bag, looping it into two bunny ears. She waved back to the cashier, walking out and back to the elevator, wanting to open her water bottle but knowing that her surroundings were far too chilly for cold water. 

She sat back down to where she was before she called Jennifer, opening her novel and spacing out after the first page, dog-earring a corner and placing it into her lap. Carrie pushed herself further down in the chair, planting her feet on the ground and her legs straight, the act of bending her knees still causing pain. She tried to read again, giving up as the book made itself even clearer that it was meant for teenagers, nothing realistic and the jokes not landing. Yawning, she closed her eyes, her eyelids weighing heavy, knowing that sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. 

She recounted the two hours that she had spent out of the hotel room so far, thinking about the car ride, forgetting what time that they had left and the ride itself, only recognizing the brief time out of the vehicle in flashes, only remembering panic and their last moments of conversation before arriving at the hospital. Carrie wanted to go to sleep, but she had to stay alert, wanting updates on when she could go home, when she would see Harrison, what she was supposed to do next. 

⇣ 

“How are you feeling? Did you see God?” Carrie sank into the recliner, biting a hangnail on her thumb. She tossed her bag from the gift shop beside herself, combing back her hair with her fingers. 

“I have a sling, not a coffin.” Harrison smiled. “I’ve been worse, not many times, but I don’t feel terrible, at least not yet.” 

“You don’t want to hear it, but you’re an idiot for not doing what they told you to do.”

“I’d be an idiot if you were killed.”

Carrie laughed, looking down and running her palms onto her lap, picking at the small tear in one of the knees of her jeans, prying it apart with her fingertips. “I’m glad that I didn’t die today, but I wouldn’t have either way.” 

“Did you not clean off? We’re in a hospital, we have Neosporin.” Harrison motioned to Carrie’s knees with his free arm. “There’s a bathtub in the bathroom.”

“No, there isn’t. You’d be lucky to have a shower that you could turn around in.” Carrie continued to tear out the denim threads. “Worry about yourself, you just had surgery.”

“There is a bathtub, they booked me in one of their high quality rooms, at the end of the hallway, away from everyone else. I can’t get shot a second time today.” Harrison tried to crack a joke, but noticed that Carrie wasn’t paying any attention to him. “Are you okay?”

“I woke up this morning planning to spend my day in a dusty conference room. Now I’ve just lived through the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to me. You can’t expect me to be alright.” Carrie looked up to Harrison, one side of her lips raising up. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Do you think that I did?” 

“Yeah, it’s part of your job. There’s always that risk of some random fucker to shoot you, you’re the most powerful man in the world. You know that there’s a chance of this happening. I wanted to spend the weekend with you and get to do normal shit, you know, with your duties sprinkled in, but now we can’t do that. You could have climbed into the car, they wouldn’t have shot, you’d be fine, I’d be fine.” Carrie sighed, clearing her throat. “I want to spend time with you, I really do, but I don’t want that at the expense of my life. They could have missed you again and hit me, you know that, right?”

“I would never mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. You can’t just predict that you would be fine.” Harrison reached to tuck a strand of Carrie’s hair behind her ear. “I can’t tell you that I’m sorry because it wasn’t my fault.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this, nevermind, I’ll just save it for when I’m thinking clearly.” Carrie shook her head. Harrison began to speak out of protest, but Carrie cut him off. “When are we leaving?”

“They want to monitor me until Tuesday. There’s not any nerve damage, or at least any that they know of yet, but they have to keep an eye on it.” Harrison rubbed his shoulder with his hand, ignoring the cast on it. “You can go ahead and fly home if you want, I know you have work.” 

“Work doesn’t matter right now, you’re the person that I’m working with. I can bring Sara here, fly back and grab her, be back here tomorrow. I want to stay beside you in this. I’ll figure something out with her school, but I want us all to be here. You’re hurt, but you’re also her father. I think that you need your family.” Carrie rested her head on her fist. “If you don’t remember what you told me, know that I love you too and that’s why I’m doing this.” 

Harrison smiled, remembering the words that they had exchanged. “Clean yourself up and I’ll have someone organize a flight. There’s towels on the counter.”

Carrie sat on the side of the tub, unzipping her jeans and trying to shimmy them off, carefully prying them away from her knees. She started to run the water, keeping one hand in the stream, pulling off her halter top with the other. 

The water ran hot, turning her skin pink as she waded in, sitting with her knees out of the water, not wanting to feel them sting. She took her nails and scratched out a piece of gravel, wincing as she noticed the indention in her skin. The rock sank down to the bottom of the tub, tickling past her ankles and next to the drain, ready to be washed away with the rest of the day. 

On one hand, Carrie was happy that she had lost her phone, that way she didn’t have to deal with random contacts calling her and the urge to check the news, but she wanted to have Jennifer on speed dial and the ability to call Mark whenever she wanted to, if only to talk to Sara. She had backed out of watching the news in the gift shop, walking away before the commercials had ended. Carrie took the washcloth hanging off the tub and rubbed it against her palms, gently working water into her abrasions. 

As she soaked the washrag in soap, Carrie heard a knock on the door. She reached for the towel beside her, haphazardly wrapping it around her chest and trying her best not to dip it into the water. “Who is it?” 

“It’s me,” Harrison opened the door to the bathroom, stepping inside. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“You’re going to have to answer my question first. What the hell are you wearing?” 

Harrison looked down to his pants, realizing for the first time that he’d been changed into swim trunks, the polyester fabric dyed with a design similar to those of aloha shirts. “I don’t know, they said that they gave me something I could wear in the shower, I can't exactly get undressed with only one arm working.” 

“You look like you just survived a shark attack,” Carrie smiled. “Do you want to get in? I can imagine that you’re dirtier than I am, you’ve been laid up in that bed for hours.” 

Harrison sat on the side of the tub, pulling his socks off and watching as Carrie tried to fold her towel and place it into the floor, only to set down a rolled up mess. “I can’t fold for shit.” 

“Today has been awful,” Harrison tightened the ties of his shorts, sitting down on the bottom of the tub, lopsided as he held half of his torso out of it. “I’ve never had surgery before.”  
  
“Really?” Carrie took the washcloth back into her hands and dabbed it onto her knees. “I haven’t either, but I’m not quite as dangerous as you are.” 

“Let me take care of it,” Harrison grabbed the cloth from Carrie, dabbing soap onto it and reaching to her knees. 

“No, it’s going to hurt,” Carrie curled her legs inwards, placing her head between her knees. “I can do it.”

“Just trust me, I’m the one who hurt you, I should be the one to fix it.” Carrie stretched her legs out a little further, grinding her teeth as Harrison started to wipe them clean, quickly realizing that the pain had subsided, the only real pain stemming from Harrison trying to flake off the dried blood into the water. “It’s really deep.”

“I know. I fell hard.” 

“Do you actually want to be together?” 

“I didn’t know that we were.” Carrie focused on Harrison still cleaning her knees. “I like to be around you. I like to talk to you, to do work with you, to watch you smile when you roll out of bed. I like to make out and have sex and make love. I love when you love me, when we work towards things together, when you talk about Sara. You’ve given me a great life, it isn’t perfect by any means, but I have you, and I have Sara, and I have a job. But I don’t want this at the price of my safety. I want to be with you but I don’t actually need to be. I’ve built this life for myself with Mark and Jennifer, I’ve raised our daughter from the day she was conceived, I have two degrees that I worked my ass off for, I’m living in a four bedroom rental. I want to be with you, I want to live in your home and be beside you and be able to call you mine whenever I want, but I need the security of the life that I have already. I would say I want to be together, but I want and need to be safe for Sara’s sake more. I love her more than I love you, and you know that, but she’ll always come first. If today taught me anything, it’s that even if I feel secure in the two of us as an item, I don’t feel secure in your public life.” 

Harrison continued to gently wipe away the dirt left on Carrie’s knees, sucking in his lips and not knowing what to say. He dipped his free hand into the water, touching Carrie’s ankle. “Come here, over to my side.” 

“There aren’t really sides in a six foot tub,” Carrie laughed. She peddled herself over to Harrison, mauvering herself to fit into the crook of his neck. 

“We can stay just the two of us. We don’t have to go places together, we won’t have to do anything together except for court. You can lead your own life, I can lead mine.” 

“I don’t want to live life like I’m having an affair,” Carrie roped her body around Harrison. She knew that at any other time this would provoke a fight, but she was far too tired to start anything. “I don’t want to be with you if we have to keep our relationship a secret. I want to be able to tell people that I’m in love, I want our daughter to know she has a father. I don’t want to be living a lie any longer. I’m not in my first semester of college, I’m a law school graduate that you are working alongside now, I’m not working for you. I have everything I want in my life except for my ability to show my love for you. I want a real relationship, none of this off-on see-you-on-the-weekend touch-and-go bullshit.” 

“You deserve better than this, you know? You need someone that you feel safe with.”

“I do feel safe with you,” Carrie looked up to Harrison, her wet hair brushing against his neck. “I’m curled around you like a cat. I just don’t feel safe right now with you in public. It isn’t every relationship that your person almost gets assassinated.”

“Your person?” Harrison moved his wrapped arm to hover over Carrie, petting her hair and attempting not to hurt himself. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, I mean, I don’t think so. And you’re definitely not just a flirtation. And I’ve thought of you every day since my first day of college. If there’s anyone other than Sara that I’ve let my life revolve around, then it’s you.” Carrie pushed Harrison’s arm back to the side of the tub. “It was all in vain though, wasn’t it? Being like you is similar to picking a scab. One moment I’m so satisfied in where we are, all of the progress that we’ve made, then the next I’m in so much pain, either thinking of what could have been or what shouldn’t have. I’m an idiot, you just got fucking shot and had a major surgery. Here I am complaining about my problems.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t worried about myself today. I’ve only thought about you, how you’re going to react, if you’re going to still be the same. It’s traumatic as fuck, what happened. I want you to be okay, and if that means us not seeing each other anymore then I’m alright with it. I want what you need, not what I want you to have.” Harrison held Carrie’s right hand in his own, running his thumb over the abrasion. “I hope that I haven’t given you any scars.”

“Mentally, no. I have memories, some of them good, some awful like today was. Physically, I’ve got two scraped knees, abrasions on both of my palms, I have a scar on my inner thigh from dropping a wine glass that Jennifer bought me because I liked drinking from yours. I poked myself in the fingertip with a pen on yours once, and I have lines on my sides and stomach from Sara.” Carrie tried to take her left hand to trace her body, partially unable from the way she was laying. 

“I haven’t noticed any of those.”

“You have to have noticed at least something that has changed since we first met, you’ve seen my legs, the glass one is obvious.” 

“I don’t care about your body, I know what you look like, and there’s a bonus that you’re physically attractive, but you could look like a trainwreck and I wouldn’t care. I care about your opinions and your thoughts and how you’ve been.”

“That’s the worst thing I’ve heard today, stop trying to be deep, just say you’re not observant.” Carrie grinned. “But, it is the thought that counts.” 

“We should just take things slow, day by day.” 

“We have to, look at how fast we’ve been. I’ve known you for three weeks now.” Carrie sat up, reaching for a shampoo bottle but not being able to find one. “That’s what was wrong the first time, back then we barely knew each other and we fucked like rabbits. Now we know each other, but I want to move at a normal speed, to do whatever we want, but in moderation instead of excess. I want us to take responsibility, to take care of each other, to atone for our sins in the past and move on smarter. I just want you to promise me one thing. That no matter what happens between us, what anyone else knows, don’t let them know about our daughter. I don’t want her to be in the spotlight. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. I guess that I’m trying to shelter her, but I don’t want her to go through any of what happened today.” 

“I’ll promise you anything,” Harrison tried to grab Carrie with both arms, but had to remain with his left arm sitting out. “Are you going to tell Sara about what happened today?” 

“No, I’m just going to tell her that you’re hurt and that we need to go comfort you. She can’t know about anything else, I don’t want her to be afraid.” Carrie grabbed her towel from the floor, wrapping her hair into it. “She’s the only child that I’ll ever have, I don’t want to fuck her childhood like my parents fucked mine.” 

⇣ 

Carrie sat in one of the leather seats of Air Force One, flying under the call sign of Air Force 28000, missing the presence of her President on board. Sara sat beside her, watching one of the inflight movies and snacking on a bag of popcorn, running her hands all over the seat, still amazed after forty minutes in the air. 

Carrie took a comb from her purse that she had grabbed at home and brushed back Sara’s hair, wanting her to look presentable to the staff aboard. She felt of her old flip phone in her hoodie pocket, wishing that she could use it alongside the plane’s navigation system. The time was slowly approaching midnight, knowing that she would reach the comfort of her and Harrison’s hotel room again at one that morning. 

Watching her daughter play with the Presidential seal embossed to one of the napkins, Carrie bit her lip. “I have something to tell you.” 

Sara perked up, removing her headphones and turning in her seat. 

“You know my friend Harrison, the one that we’re flying to see?” 

“Yes,” Sara smiled, tempted to turn back to her movie. “What is it?”

“Harrison,” Carrie paused, inhaling deeply and trying to push her words out. “He’s really important to me, and he is to you as well. I told you that every family is different, that you have a father but neither of us could see him because we couldn’t find him, that he wasn’t hiding but he was lost, that he did want to see us. Do you remember that?” 

Sara started to speak, but Carrie blurted out her speech, accidentally cutting her off. Carrie swallowed, pulling her emotions to the forefront then quickly tucking them away. “Harrison is your dad. We were together many years ago, and relationships don’t always work out. He still loves you, but I didn’t know that, so I lost contact with him. He wants to be your dad, he wants to be there for the two of us. He loves you and wants you to know that. I hope that you aren’t upset with me.” 

“I’m not.” Sara said. “Why would I be mad?”  
  


“Well, I would be upset. You’ve met him a few times, you’re obviously friendly with each other, you should have known.” 

“I’m not you. We aren’t sad about the same things.” Sara shook her head, shrugging her shoulders as well. “When will we be there?”

“What?” Carrie felt herself shift backwards, blinking twice. “Do you not care about what I just said?”  
  


“I do care, that’s why I want to know when we’ll get there.” Sara smiled at Carrie. “I want to see him again. It sounds nice to be his daughter.” 

Carrie sat in her seat, processing what Sara felt, even if she didn’t outwardly state anything. She was happy, she was excited, and Carrie couldn’t contextualize either of those things. She tried to picture what she could have felt if she knew that she would be seeing her father again, or if someone had stepped up to become her father that was capable of the responsibility, but her mind drew blank. From multiple step-fathers that each lasted a year, to someone new that she had only met years ago during Christmas, Carrie had almost had someone to call her father - almost. 

She wanted to ask Sara if she was completely alright, knowing that at her age she would have either brushed it aside or grown angry. Carrie held back, not emoting outwardly, only watching her daughter smile, having to know that she was her own person, that she wasn’t a carbon copy of Carrie, and in some twisted world where children were just like their parents, there would have to be some things that she had inherited from Harrison, whether that be his mother’s untamable hair or his own silent smugness, always knowing something first and being the last one to say it. 

Sara had always been soft spoken, and when she did speak she was wiser than anyone believed, learning how to present herself through years of listening to the adults that she lived with and being told exactly how the world was, there was no use sheltering her only for her to find out that the version of the world that she lived in was fake upon turning eighteen. Carrie hadn’t kept secrets or lied, only about Harrison, but she believed that was an exception.

Carrie remembered when Sara had met Harrison for the first time, him showing up unannounced on her birthday, with Sara taking an instant liking to him. She sat beside him at the kitchen table, asking questions and pressing her body against his side as she reached over the table. Sara laughed at his bad jokes, and in response to Harrison asking if he could make a good father, she said that he could be her’s, in the off-chance that she would ever need one. 

“You’re for sure that you like this, right? It’s going to be a lot different,” Carrie buckled Sara’s seatbelt for her as the captain announced that they would soon be touching down. “This is new for both of us.” 

“Yes, I am. I wanted him to be my dad.” 

Carrie sighed, holding Sara close to her chest, feeling her arms stretch to her torso. “I love you,” Carrie kissed her crown, hugging her tighter. “I couldn’t tell you until today, I’m sorry.” 

“Why couldn’t you?” Sara asked, keeping her arms around her mother, her head moving as Carrie’s chest rose and fell from breathing. 

Carrie didn’t answer, wanting to stay just as she was. She had lived for years with the feeling that it was only her and Sara against the world, sharing bedrooms and sacrificing her time. She had never dreamed of telling Sara about Harrison, no need to as they would likely never meet, and if they did, Carrie had remembered Harrison once saying that he didn’t want any kids.

“Because,” Carrie pulled away, rebuckling the seatbelt of her own. “Today I knew for the first time that I love him.” 

⇣ 

The car service arrived outside of the hotel, Carrie watching it arrive from the window as she put on her makeup with a hand mirror. Sara was sprawled out on the mattress, playing with candy ordered from room service and watching the guide channel. She had been awake most of the night, unable to sleep from being in new surroundings, preoccupied with Harrison on her mind as well. Carrie had migrated to the couch, giving up on having to ignore the tossing and turning in the one bed. 

They followed each other into the elevator, quickly exiting the building and climbing into a car that was not as suspicious as Harrison’s, aiming for safety rather than convenience. Carrie held Sara’s hands as they entered the hospital, taking her aside as Harrison’s men came to greet them. For the first time since becoming acquainted once again with Harrison, Carrie was searched for any weaponry, her bag emptied and this time a pencil and floss discarded. 

“I think we’ll have to wait for a few minutes,” Carrie spoke as they arrived at Harrison's floor, collapsing into one of the plastic chairs of the waiting room. “Don’t play with that, we’re in a hospital.” 

Sara turned away from a rainbow abacus, picking up a magazine and turning the pages. Carrie checked the date on it, recognizing that it was from years ago, worried too much about if she and Harrison would be in it. She watched as Sara skimmed the pages, stopping to read short quotes and call outs, nodding along as if she understood the celebrity jokes. 

Carrie had absentmindedly began texting Jennifer, telling her about the ridiculous wait to be cleared as a visitor and the sterile smell of the waiting room. Sara sat down beside her and Carrie braided her hair loosely, Carrie knowing that she wasn’t good enough at braiding to want the plaits to hold. 

Hearing a familiar voice calling to them, Carrie turned in her chair to face the nurse who had guided her back the first time. “Can we go back now?” 

The nurse motioned to her with an open palm, remaining silent but welcoming her and Sara to follow. Carrie held onto Sara’s shoulders as they walked, letting Sara trail ahead. Carrie watched as Sara began to walk faster, sighing as she tried to think of what all Sara could or would say, not knowing if Sara was going to even acknowledge Harrison as her father. 

She had forgotten what they were doing in the hallway, becoming confused as they stopped at a wooden door, pulling herself out of her thoughts and back into the situation at hand. Carrie rolled her lips between her front teeth, scrunching her nose and distracting herself again. She thought that perhaps she made the wrong decision, that she shouldn’t have told Sara just yet, knowing for sure that if they were to call things off that Sara would never see Harrison again. It would be cruel to have a father for a few weeks then never again, especially someone that was as known of as Harrison was. 

Carrie thought that she could have made the right decision but at the wrong time, Harrison being stressed by everything that had perspired could make Sara being there the tipping point of his emotions. He wasn’t in the mindset to try and parent, he wasn’t even physically able to do much. She walked through the now opened door, closing her eyes and watching as her mind’s eye drew a blank, leaving her to do nothing but to place her face into her palms, drowning out anything happening around her. 

Sara tugged on Carrie’s shorts, pulling off a frayed string by accident. She had captured Carrie’s attention, but had not done enough to draw her back to reality. Harrison had started to tell the two of them to come over to him, motioning them towards him in a similar fashion as the nurse’s, but before he could do much of anything, Sara spoke up instead. 

“Dad?” 

Carrie raised her eyebrows, opening her eyes and looking towards Harrison, already sitting up in his bed. She tried smiling wide, but her reflexes were cut as Sara skipped past her, tugging off more strings from her shorts. She watched as Harrison’s own smile turned into his jaw slightly dropping, his tongue dropping from his palette. Still, he was able to keep his smile, shaking his head playfully as he focused on Carrie. 

He had his arms opened wide, or as wide as he could while his left arm was still injured, and clasped them tightly around Sara as she climbed up to him. Sara pushed her head into the nook of his neck, the braids in her hair rubbing against his chin and undoing themselves. Harrison did the same, placing his chin onto her neck, rubbing her back as he was able. He had his eyes closed, but opened them to look back to Carrie. 

“Hey,” Harrison spoke slowly, feeling his daughter’s smile pressing into his chest. “How are you?” 

Carrie didn’t know who Harrison was talking to, whether it be her or Sara, but shook her head, staying silent. She wanted to feel something, happiness, shock, anything, but all she could do was watch Harrison and Sara together. She thought that she might have used up all of her emotions, already having introduced them to each other once before, or that she was in a state of numbness after the events of the weekend, miles from home and in an emergency. 

She wanted to ask Harrison if he were upset, not knowing why, as she already knew that he had done everything but beg for her to tell Sara that they were a family. He had adapted to knowing that he was her father quickly, and hadn’t shown disdain to acting upon it. Harrison was a private person, which Carrie knew, but she was able to sense that the reason he didn’t have much of a reaction to becoming Sara’s father wasn’t because he was against it, but it was because he wanted it. 

Carrie kept focus on Harrison and Sara hugging, noticing that Sara had balled the fabric of Harrison’s bedding into her fist, holding onto that, holding onto him. She had wanted a father, someone like Harrison in her life, and Carrie knew, of course she had to. 

“Come over here with us,” Harrison shrugged his right shoulder, signaling Carrie to sit down beside the two of them. 

“If you insist.” Carrie smiled, walking over to the bed and kneeling onto it, placing a kiss on the side of Harrison’s cheekbone, feeling as her lashes fluttered against his skin. She roped one of her arms around Harrison’s back, tucking her shoulder beneath his elbow, and placed her other arm around Sara’s shoulders, pulling her in tightly. 

“She’s quiet.”

“She’s probably tired,” Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think that she’s slept since yesterday morning.” 

Carrie ran her fingertips through Sara’s hair and gently undid her braids, loosening the plaits and combing them out with her nails. She continued to pet her hair, trying to figure out if she had fallen asleep or not. 

“How are you feeling?” Carrie asked, reaching for one of the blankets behind her to hang over Sara’s back. “Are you sore yet?”

“Of course I am,” Harrison tried to flex his left arm, still wrapped up and in its sling, aimed to be out of commission for days. “I think she’s out.” 

“She is,” Carrie pulled Sara up from Harrison’s lap, wanting to position her neck in a way that would let her sleep comfortably. “She was so excited to come here and see you. I told her everything on the plane. You know, she wasn’t concerned or anything. She wasn’t upset with me, either. She just wanted to see you.” 

“You didn’t have to say anything,” Harrison took his free hand off of Sara’s back and placed it around Carrie’s shoulders in return. “But I’m glad you did.” 

“I was so afraid of you when we first met. I thought that you were this otherworldly human, that you were too cool for me, and that you’d never see me as anything but someone beneath you. You just had this look to you, and this attitude. Everytime I would leave your apartment I felt as if I’d just fallen flat on my face. I was so embarrassed to even exist around you.” Carrie turned her head onto Harrison’s chest, hearing her breath echo off of his t-shirt. “You’re not that tough once someone gets to know you. I know that you think you are, but you’re not. You can be a real asshole sometimes, but I can be too. When you’re not, you’re the nicest person alive. You’re so much more than the man I thought you were. I should’ve told you.” 

“I was going to say that I loved you the day that I left.” Harrison sighed, flaring his nostrils. “But I don’t think that would have helped anything.”

“No, I doubt that it would have. I had my mind set up on what I was going to say to you, and I don’t think that anything could have stopped me from lying. If anything that would have just made it worse. No number of ‘I love yous’ or nice gestures could have saved us then. I missed you the entire time. Every day, every year. Nothing could have made it possible for us to work something out, us meeting again was just a fluke.” Carrie kissed him again, this time below his chin, her nose grazing against his scar. “It was a good coincidence, though. We’re both at a place in our lives where we can work this all out. And don’t think I’ve done this all for just Sara, I’ve done it for myself. I love her, so much, but if this were for her I would have never tried anything romantic, or played hard to get. I had to pull you around for a little bit, that little bit being maybe a week, but you put me through Hell. I tried to return the favor.” 

⇣

Feeling around for her keys, Carrie attempted to slide her heels on, stuffing her feet into the shoes and bunching up her stockings. She took a long sip from her coffee mug, gulping back the caffeine and pursing her lips so as not to let any of it spill onto her blouse. Carrie placed her palms onto her desk, squinting her eyes and sighing, eyeing her alarm clock one last time, knowing that if she left now she would only be thirty minutes late for work. Her eyes rolled back, still trying to slip on her heels. She felt her mascara touch her brow bone, still wet and leaving short black marks just below her eyebrows. Without time to properly wash it away, she simply slicked her finger with her tongue, roughly rubbing away the makeup and ignoring the mirror sitting beside her. 

Carrie closed her bedroom door, accidentally slamming it shut, feeling the house shake and praying that she hadn’t woken Sara or Mark up, Jennifer already downstairs and getting ready for her day as well. Normally she would crack open Sara’s door, checking on her before leaving for work, but instead Carrie shuffled past, gripping onto the banister of the stairwell and jogging down, almost catching the heels of her shoes on the carpeting. 

She had fallen asleep at five that morning, finally arriving back home at four. Harrison had gone his separate way, back to his home for his care, with Carrie and Sara making the trek back out to their home, forty-five long minutes away from the airport. Sleep wasn’t the issue, as between mothering, school, and attempting to sustain at least two of her friendships, Carrie had learned to survive without ample rest. The issue was the faulty alarm clock beside her bed, and the occasional forgetfulness to set an alarm on her cellphone. 

“How was everything?” Jennifer peaked over the back of the couch as she heard Carrie moving down the stairs, holding a bag of dry Cocoa Puffs in one hand and the television remote in another, her hair still pulled up from sleeping and her fluffy pajamas on. 

“I’m running late.” Carrie stood at the end of the stairs momentarily, straightening out her jacket and successfully putting on her heels, pushing down the thin fabric of her spandex stockings so that they would no longer remain caught on the edge of her heel. “Don’t you have work this morning too?”

“I took the morning off,” Jennifer turned back to face the television, scrolling through the guide. “I go in at noon. My eternal clock is all screwed up from being in Texas for the weekend.”

“God, I forgot all about that. Your boyfriend took you to Texas and I didn’t even ask about the ride there.” Carrie stumbled into the kitchen, dragging her feet on the carpet again. “You’ll have to tell me tonight, I have to be at work in five minutes and we live thirty minutes away.” 

She took a plastic bag from beneath the sink and performed an act similar to Jennifer, pouring dry cereal into another smaller baggy, ignoring what brand and tossing it in. Carrie took a canned drink as well, again ignoring any semblance of what it actually was that she was planning to digest, and tied the bag closed, looping it onto her index and middle fingers, her keys resting between her pinky and ring fingers. 

“Harrison’s supposed to be doing some address thing this morning, you know, because of all the crazy shit you witnessed this weekend,” Jennifer called to Carrie from the living room, hanging off of the couch and loosely paying attention to the CNN broadcast. 

“At nine in the morning?” Carrie rolled her eyes, stepping back into the living room. She sighed in defeat, knowing that whether she were five minutes or an hour late, her boss would scold her all the same. “You think that he would try to get some sleep.” 

“Just watch the first five minutes with me,” Jennifer laughed, outstretching her arm to Carrie. “I need your insight too.” 

“Fine.” Carrie slumped down onto the couch cushions, still standing behind the couch but letting her head and shoulders rest onto it. “But if I’m fired after this, don’t expect to hear anything about him from me ever again.” 

She stole the remote from Jennifer, slightly turning up the volume. Carrie closed her eyes, waiting for a reporter to say something that she didn’t know, or to make an outlandish claim that she could laugh about. “I still don’t get why he’s doing this,” Carrie coughed. “It’s got to be some emergency thing, he didn’t mention it to me this morning.”

“You’ve got to keep your work away from your private life.”

“Until you get fucking shot,” Carrie snickered. “He’s probably just going to call for stricter gun control, something like that. He’s been pushing it since he ran the first time around. Shouldn’t take violence to get it done.” 

“You’d make a stellar First Lady,” Jennifer laughed, with Carrie laughing similarly. 

“In your dreams,” Carrie smiled. “I’ve never actually thought about that. I’d be so bad, I’d just stay in that huge house all day and do online shopping.” 

Carrie found herself on the couch opposite of Jennifer, with her knees pulled to her chest and her heels kicked onto the floor. She had sent her boss a text message, that she was running extremely late, using her late arrival back into town as the reasoning. As she tossed her phone onto the floor, doing the same with the bag she was carrying her lunch in, the channel had finally rolled into the address, leaving Carrie to sit up. 

She ran her tongue over her teeth out of boredom, drowning out anything that Harrison was saying. “This was pre recorded on the plane, I think that Sara and I were asleep.” Carrie recognized the background and the oak desk that Harrison was sitting at. 

Carrie began to explain the floor plan of Harrison’s plane, how Air Force One didn’t have any beds other than his, and how there were playing cards specifically made for the flights. She continued to ignore what he was saying, knowing that it would be a spiel on how he was feeling fine and that everything was taken care of. As she relaxed into the couch, still stiff from the anxiety that came from being late for work, Carrie closed her eyes, wanting a few more minutes of calmness before entering her office. 

Her attention drifted in and out, still thinking too deeply about the weekend, about work, about Sara and Harrison and everything else. Harrison spoke about being open with his personal beliefs more, about wanting to push more for the causes he believed in, and transparency in himself as a person, because everything could fall away at any moment. 

“This is bullshit,” Carrie picked up her cellphone, checking the time. “He doesn’t talk like this in real life. Harrison’s fucking weird, not this tightwad.” 

“Have you been paying attention to any of this?” Jennifer swallowed, lowering her brows. “He’s talking right now about filing for a divorce.” 

“No, he’s not.” Carrie said with an annoyed expression. “He’d be shooting himself in the foot if he did that, the election’s in, what is it now, three months? I don’t even think that the court papers come out until after the nomination.” 

“Yes, he is,” Jennifer spoke over Carrie. She leaned against the couch cushions, stealing back the remote from Carrie and turning up the volume. “He’s getting a divorce two weeks before the election, he’s not lived with his wife for a little over a year, and he doesn’t care if that ruins his chances at running.” 

“Are you fucking with me?” Carrie bit her bottom lip, digging her teeth into the tissue. She held her hand up in a cue for Jennifer to not respond, suddenly focusing on the broadcast. 

“I realize that I have not been the most personable President that America has ever had. There have been more times than I can count that I’ve been cold, or that I’ve been unapproachable. That is why I’m speaking to you all today, why I am addressing you as a nation. This has nothing to do with my campaign, and quite frankly, this may hurt it. I want you to know that I am as human as the rest of you are, and I want you to know that I am here for you, that we all have similar experiences.” 

“Do people not proofread this?” Carrie shook her head. “He’s not much of a poet.”

She stood up from the couch, her phone in one hand, her bags in another, already dialing Harrison’s number, forgoing scrolling through her contacts to find him. 

“You’re already leaving?” Jennifer turned off the television, reaching for Carrie to come back. 

“Yeah, I’ve got work to do,” Carrie waved goodbye, tugging an extra jacket onto her shoulder. She sprinted out of the door, climbing into the car and raising her phone to her ear. As she backed out of the driveway, she heard the dial tone disappear. 

“You’re awake?” Harrison answered from the other side of the line, noticeably exhausted, his voice slower and raspier than usual. 

“You’re not?” Carrie whipped her head over her left shoulder, checking again to see if any cars were behind her before shifting into drive. “Did you even think to tell me that you were going to publicize your divorce?”  
  
“I don’t see what the big deal is. People were going to find out one way or another, it was just a matter of when and who from. I’d rather them know now and to hear it from me.” 

“Harrison, you’re running for a second term in office. You can’t just say that shit. Do you actually want to win?” Carrie turned on the radio, shuffling through the channels, her phone on her shoulder, her right hand on the dashboard and her left hand on the wheel. “You have people working for you that have dedicated their entire lives to learning how to handle PR. I’ve got a three year law degree and I worked on your campaign for twelve weeks and even I can tell you that you fucked up with that. People are going to start talking, people are going to connect us together because they saw you with me in New York-”

“You’re the one who’s my fucking divorce auttorney.” Harrison sat up in bed, placing his phone on speaker and hitting his head on the headboard. “This is the first time that I’ve been able to sleep in my own bed since Wednesday. Can’t you critique my life another day?”  
  


“Your life? The last I checked, your divorce involves both a current and past secret affair with me. If you want to talk about your life talk about a hobby, not divorcing your wife right after you were seen hanging out with your divorce lawyer and staying in the same hotel before a random appearance at the UN. It’s not just you, it’s me, it’s our daughter. I don’t care what you say, I don’t give a single fuck what you’re running your campaign upon, but the second that you mention something pertaining to me or something that I am involved in, there’s a problem. I have to watch for my safety, because like you said, I could have gotten shot and died, and so could you.”

“That’s not what this is about, that’s not what any of this is about. Are you okay?” Harrison sighed, laughing to himself. “What provoked this?” 

“I’m fine! You getting a divorce means that some weird fucking history buff is going to track down who your lawyer is, find out that she’s me, and then conspirize that there’s some affair going on. Then they’ll haul their ass up to goddamn Columbia and search through that huge library and find some record that says I took your Intro Econ class in 2006.” Carrie huffed, the air coming from her nose hitting her hands. “I’m already late for work, I don’t even know why I’m taking the energy that I need to do my job and funneling it into this shit. I’m concerned, and I’m allowed to be. You should be too. You’re not the only person in your life anymore.” 

Carrie pulled over into her parking space, arriving to work in a record time, partly because of how quickly she was driving. She searched her cup holders for quarters, pocketing them for the parking meter. “And one more thing,” Carrie started walking down the sidewalk, her building only two blocks away. “When the fuck did you record this? Why were you so concerned about telling the entirety of the United States that you were getting a divorce while flying home this morning at three?” 

“If you actually paid any attention to the address then you would know that it was primarily about gun control.”

“Do you think that any mainstream media networks are going to pay attention to that? Fox News is going to say something like, ‘Dumb Liberal Bitch Harrison Ford calls for Gun Control - And he’s Fucking his Assistant.’” Carrie stopped walking, tossing a gum wrapper that she had found in a nearby trash can. She opened up a small blue newspaper box beside the trash can, fishing out a copy of the New York Post. Carrie ignored what Harrison was saying in response, herself replying back with simple, uninterested ‘mmhm’s’ and ‘uhuh’s.’ She continued walking, flipping the pages onto PageSix. “I’m going to fucking kill someone.” 

“Carrie?” Harrison stammered. “What?” 

“Fucking- It’s fucking Jillian, wrote something for this fucking paper that I’m reading.” Carrie began to read the headline, unimpressed by the resemblance to the fake one that she had joked about just seconds before. “I’ve got to go to work.” Carrie hung up the phone, practically slamming it into the bottom of her bag. 

_Want A Piece of His Heart? Harrison Ford’s Mystery Woman may have made her Case._

Carrie retained the urge to spit onto the paper and stomp it into the ground, reading ahead and taking a deep breath. 

_Late last week, an assassination attempt was plotted against President Harrison Ford. In an attempt for Secret Service to draw him back into his limousine and away from any harm, instead he pushed himself away to grab the hands of a woman who was traveling alongside him. In the process, he suffered a bullet wound in his left shoulder, and even then, he made sure that his female companion was safe before he was._

_After the news died down, it was only natural for a story to head to us. Who is this person beside our President? What is her name, what does she do, and why did Ford act so urgently to protect her?_

_I conducted a phone interview with another woman named Jillian Hill, who-_

Carrie had covered the rest of the paragraph with her thumb on accident, but failed to remove it from the page. She wanted to reach for her phone a second time, to call Jennifer and rant, knowing that she had spent years listening to rants about Jillian before, but knew that her office was just another block away. 

She wanted to ask questions, such as who Jillian had married and had her last name changed for, or why she would offer a story about Carrie to the New York Post. 

_Hill: Carrie Fisher was my roommate during my freshman year of college. She was pursuing a degree in political science with the hopes to become a lawyer later on. I don’t know if she ever accomplished that, she spent too much time partying and focusing her energy on other things._

_I: And what were those other ‘things’ exactly?_

_H: Carrie confided in me that she and President Ford were having an affair. He was her Economics professor during our first semester at Columbia University._

“What the fuck?” Carrie said aloud, waving to a parent walking with their child beside her, briefly apologizing. She started to laugh, just out of spite. “On other things?” 

_After class, two nights a week, she would go to his apartment to help him with his campaign for his first term, but was really there for sex, cheating on her boyfriend with him. I have no doubt that she did so to pass, and that she also did it out of boredom. I don’t know what ended up happening between them or how she ended up with him in New York last weekend, she started to grow rude during our second semester, so I switched dorms and she moved in with a friend._

Carrie began to cackle, shielding her face from the rest of the people passing her on the street. Jillian conducted an interview as if she were an angsty teenager, holding a grudge from the beginning of middle school, speaking with a tone and with language that immediately discredited anything that she was saying. 

She strolled into her office, continuing to read the interview, rolling her eyes at the fact that it rolled over to page seven. She laughed at the anecdotes of things that never happened, the bitterness that Jillian still held from Carrie moving out, knowing that Jillian forced her out of the dorm after she and Mark broke up and Carrie had remained close friends with him. Carrie nodded as she passed by her boss, sitting at a table in the common room, then walked into her own office, closing the door and sliding against the back of it. 

“I’m so sorry,” Carrie called Harrison back, still snickering, her breath unsteady from her laugh. “Jillian’s a fucking idiot, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Continue on with your divorce announcement, make a press tour out of it. Jillian tried to out the two of us and did so horrifically. There’s nothing to worry about, in fact, get a copy of the Post and laugh at it with me.” 

⇣

Carrie wrapped a lock of her hair around her thumb, distracting herself from her work as she typed away at her computer with her free hand. She rubbed her waterline, sighing as she checked the clock on her screen. Work ended in fifteen minutes, fifteen long minutes that would drag on for what felt like closer to fifteen hours. She had finished her briefs for the day and had taken her lunch break to research into the more obscure areas of the law, things that would pertain to her and Harrison had anything were to happen. 

Her phone still sat in the bottom of her bag, Carrie itching to call Harrison again to apologize for blowing up. She didn’t need to apologize, because her thoughts were her own and she had the right to be concerned, but after four days straight with him, she missed the company and needed an excuse. 

She continued to type absentmindedly, hitting the J key of her keyboard repeatedly, humming along and trying to make the sound into the beat of one of her favorite songs. Carrie sighed again, slumping her head onto the desk, resting it onto her elbows. She was exhausted from the morning, and still not quite recovered from the days before. Resting her head, she heard the sounds of the opening of the car door, the metallic clanging of a bullet that she hadn’t recognized, the tires wheeling away, the absence of any sound inside of a hospital. She had been afraid that the events would leave her with relentless memories, but instead she had simply become annoyed by it, not wanting to think about it instead of growing emotional. 

Jennifer had called her on her work phone halfway through the day, telling her that she too had read the article from the Post. She had been angrier than Carrie, but still was able to laugh at the interview, knowing that the majority of it was not true, and the parts that were had been vastly overstated. 

Carrie checked the clock again, knowing that she could sneak out early in five more minutes. She finally reached for her cellphone, this time drawing out the task and searching for Harrison’s number in her contacts. She rubbed her palms, her hands and wrists sore from typing all day, and proceeded to turn her phone on speaker, knowing that the volume was low enough for no one to hear it outside of her office. 

“Can you stay at my house tonight?” Carrie asked as Harrison picked up his phone. “It’s been a long day. We could rent a movie on tv, something that Sara could watch with us, and just talk about everything. I’m spent, I need someone to come home to.” 

“When do you get off?”  
  
“Seven. I had to stay late because I came in almost ninety minutes late.” Carrie grasped her timecard between her fingertips, mimicking the motion of clocking out. “Don’t offer to pick me up, you know that I’ll forget to feed the parking meter.” 

Carrie scraped the dirt out from under her nails, listening to Harrison’s reply. She knew that he would agree before she had called him, but smiled when she heard the confirmation. As she hung up the phone, she collected her things, ready to leave her stiff office chair and to fall into her bed, curled under covers in her own home, and for the first time not alone. 

She opened the front door to the building, pulling on the extra jacket that she had brought and began to walk back to her car, passing by the familiar trashcan and paper dispenser. Carrie was tempted to put her paper back into it, after all it had been free, but decided to hold onto it to look back upon later. Jillian’s number was still saved into her phone, in fact she had added it after getting an iPhone nearing the end of college, just in case she ever needed a favor. She had hovered over her contact more than once, ready to talk to her for old times sake, or to recall something petty and obnoxious that she had done that first semester of college. Today would have been the perfect day, to tell Jillian off for the first time after every annoying thing that she had done, but Carrie ignored the urge, continuing on to her parking space. 

Carrie pulled out of the space, double checking that she hadn’t received a ticket from the meter, and turned the radio on, bopping her head along to Africa by Toto, the same song that she had hummed to in her office moments before. 

Harrison spending the night didn’t erase any of the duties that Carrie had at home. It didn’t make her unable to clean off the counters, to wash Sara’s hair for her and to comb it out, or to continue doing her work that she had on her home computer. She would have to make dinner or to order something to her home, then get ready for bed before ever enjoying the time that she and Harrison would share. 

She wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but she wished that it were easier. Carrie envied Mark and Jennifer, able to come and go as they pleased, spending nights away without consequences, doing jobs that they loved and getting into their own brands of trouble. She had sacrificed that for her daughter and her education, two things that she was proud of, Sara’s life more than seven grueling years of post-secondary education. There was a normalcy that she needed in life, not so much a fresh start to her twenties, but she wanted to live the way that she had hypothesized that she would be living in high school. At almost twenty-six, she thought she would be working for a better firm, with a more stable relationship, perhaps engaged, living in a small home out of the way. She had an alright job, and a great client who happened to be the man that she was in a complicated relationship with, and a small home out of the city that happened to be too small to get anything done inside of. She had never thought of herself as a mother until she were older, in her early or mid-thirties, unlike her own mother had been, that way she could possibly provide more security. But she didn’t regret anything with Sara, growing up alongside her and knowing a love that she had never known before, but she’d spent five years of that wanting to share it with someone else. 

Carrie rolled down her window, resting her elbow on the sill. It had been unusually chilly, down from the high eighties and into the sixties, a cold front coming through. Her jacket cut through most of the wind as she drove, another tactic to try and relieve the stress from her day at work. She was able to take her time driving home, no longer needing to speed there as she had that morning. 

She parked the car in the same spot that she always had, to the left of Mark and farthest from the front door. Before heading inside, she took off her heels, holding the heel of them in her fingertips as she continued to walk inside, the bottoms of her tights pilling as they rubbed against the asphalt driveway. She undid her hair from the clip she had wrapped it into, placing the hair clip onto one of the handles of her bag. 

Walking inside, Carrie hung her bag onto the coat rack, tossing her heels into a bin with the rest of the shoes, not wanting to carry them up to her bedroom. She waved to Jennifer, sitting on the couch where she had been earlier, this time in actual clothing and forking away at her dinner. Carrie opened one of the kitchen cabinets, finding nothing appetizing. 

Sara padded down the stairs, running up to wrap herself around Carrie, already tall enough to reach her chest. Her hair was pulled back, braided tightly into two neat braids, something that Carrie knew Jennifer had done. Carrie hugged her, waiting for Sara to pull away first. 

“Did you eat already? Carrie asked, bending down a bit to Sara’s level, playing with her braids and moving them over her shoulders. She watched as Sara nodded, hugging her again. “I’m sorry that I was gone so long, I wish that I didn’t have to be away so much for work.” 

She heard as another car pulled into the driveway, Harrison coming to spend the night. Like they were teenagers, sleeping over at a friend’s place. 

Carrie opened the door again, watching as Harrison stepped out of the vehicle, walking inside without a bag. 

“Welcome to my life.” Carrie smiled as she embraced Harrison at the doorstep, breathing in his cologne. She leaned up on her toes to plant a kiss on his jaw, rubbing her head against his chin. “Where’s your clothes? ‘You just going to wear the same suit tomorrow?” 

“I’ve been in bed all day. I’ve had this on since early this morning.” Harrison shrugged the shoulder that he could. “Oh! Hey,” Harrison began to kneel, Sara running into him. He was so tall in comparison to Carrie that Sara’s chin barely hit above his belt buckle, leaving a hug standing up to serve no purpose. 

Carrie kneeled down as well, holding onto the two of them, one hand on Harrison’s bad arm, not wanting Sara to move it around, and her other hand on Sara, holding her close in an effort to hold both of them. 

“She waits for me to come home everyday, she’s done that since she could walk.” Carrie kissed Harrison’s jaw again, pulling him tighter. “I wish that I could work from home like you do. In that big office, the nice desk.” 

“Did you have dinner yet?” 

“No, Sara’s eaten already, though. We can just get take-out or something here.” 

“Hey,” Sara looked to Harrison, pulling herself away from his hold. “Why are you here?” 

“I wanted to come over and spend some time here, I don’t see you as often as I should.” Harrison ruffled her hair, messing up the two braids that Jennifer had put it in. 

“I’ve got to put her to bed, it’s almost eight. She goes to bed at eight-thirty in the week.” 

“That’s lame,” Harrison smirked, Sara laughing in agreement. 

“You can follow us upstairs, I’ll be in the bedroom in a minute.” Carrie started to go up the stairwell, Sara following close behind, and Harrison beside her. He stopped to say hello to Jennifer, her greeting him then turning back to the television. 

Harrison had never been past the dining room, and it wasn’t much of a room, just a dining table caddy cornered near the couch. Carrie began to show him around, pointing out whose bedroom was whose, her room right beside the stairs and Sara’s directly across from it. “The bathroom is down the hall, right in the center. I don’t have a million rooms or a presidential suite, so you’ll just have to settle for my bedroom.” 

Carrie finished washing Sara’s hair, walking her back into her bedroom, the two of them sitting onto the bed beside Harrison. She ran the comb through Sara’s hair, still wet and growing tangled. Sara was playing with her dolls, detached from Carrie brushing her hair, having done it so many times. 

“I didn’t know that her hair required so much upkeep.” Harrison leaned over to Carrie’s side of the bed, playing with one of the curls that Carrie hadn’t combed through yet. 

“Yeah. And whose fault is that?” Carrie smirked to Harrison, giving him a questioning look. 

“Trojan condoms.” 

Carrie stared at Harrison, stopping herself from brushing Sara’s hair any further. “Alright, that’s pretty fucking funny. The box doesn’t say that the 2% come with untamable hair.” 

“You got your curly hair from your grandmother,” Harrison pulled a strand of Sara’s hair from out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Carrie swatted at Harrison. “That’s why it’s in those two braids all the time, it’s easy to manage like that. Jennifer knows how to do her hair, though, since Jennifer’s hair is so coily. Sara’s got waves in comparison to her.” 

“Jennifer’s a big help.” 

“She is,” Carrie nodded. “I don’t know how I could live without her or Mark. I’m so busy all the time. I try my best to make time for Sara, but it’s so hard.” 

“You’re doing it for her, though.” Harrison undid his suit jacket and hung it onto one of the bed posts. “I told you before, but you’re a good mom.” 

“You’re a good dad,” Carrie smiled as she shook her head. “I love you. And I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t care if anything happens to me, or to us, I just don’t want anything to get back to her.” 

Carrie began to braid Sara’s hair again, doing her best to twist it into two french braids, biting her lip instead of swearing as she continued to mess up. 

“Let me do it.” Harrison split Sara’s hair into three parts, braiding them together and occasionally adding more hair in as he went. “I told you that I looked up how to do this, let me show you what I learned.” 

“You’re the best,” Carrie took the hair ties off of her wrists and tied Sara’s hair off for Harrison, making sure that the ties gripped onto Sara’s hair tightly. “And so are you,” Carrie rested her chin onto Sara’s shoulder. “Do you want to go ahead and go to bed?” 

Sara slid from the bed, already in her pajamas and becoming tired. 

“Goodnight, I love you,” Carrie hung off the side of the bed, kissing Sara’s forehead and untucking the strand of hair that Harrison had placed behind her ear. “I’ll see you in the morning and I’ll take you to school.”

Carrie watched her walk away, shouting out a goodnight for both of them and closing her door on the way out. She sat the comb back onto her nightstand, rubbing her eyes and taking off both jackets that she wore. “I’m usually not this tired. I’ve learned to live without sleep, I don’t think that I’ve slept a full night since she was born.”

“She’s a great kid, you know that, don’t you? I’ve never met a child in my life that’s so respectful. She’s nice to everyone, she’s not loud, she’s funny. I never wanted kids because of how bad that my friend’s children were. She’s amazing.” 

“I try my best. She’s grown up around all adults, so I think that she’s taken after us. And I’ve loved her from the beginning. I think that a lot of ‘bad’ children are products of bad parenting, either their parents didn’t want children or they didn’t want to put in the effort of raising them.” 

“I feel bad that I told you I didn’t want kids before. I know it was years ago, but, I didn’t know that I’d ever even have kids, and I didn’t know how in love that I was going to fall with our daughter. Like, fuck, Carrie. You’ve talked about it before, but I didn’t know that you loved your child differently from anyone else. I can’t even put it into words, and I’ve only known her for a month.” 

“She loves you more than you think,” Carrie unbuttoned the front of her shirt, reaching into a drawer to grab a tank top to wear. “She thinks that you’re the coolest person ever. And if you can imagine finding out that the coolest person in the world is the parent that you never had, then that’s how she feels. You know, you didn’t have to step up and be in her life, but you’re here now, and I can never thank you enough. You gave her yourself, you gave her a father, and that was the one thing that I could never give.”  
  


“Did you freak out on me this morning because you thought that she might lose me?”

“Yes. I think about it all the time.” Carrie continued to change into pajamas, tugging off her stocking and tossing them into her bottom drawer, then putting on soft shorts. “Anything that might make you look bad worries me, especially since this weekend. I wish that you had a more normal job sometimes, because if you did then we could live together, we could all three exist together as a family. And I know that we do now, but I wish that we could fit snugly into that cookie-cutter mold of perfection. I want her to have the normal childhood that I didn’t have. Even if all of this is nice and grand, I just want her to be happy. I can’t afford losing you again, and I don’t know how she would react if you went away.” 

“I’m not going to do that.” Harrison said as he watched Carrie climb back onto the bed, laying stomach down with her feet in the air, picking at the stitching of the quilt. “If I wanted out, I would tell you. Anything else is out of my control.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” Carrie took hold of Harrison’s arm, feeling the plaster of a cast beneath his shirt. 

“No, not really. It’s been sore for a few days now, but at least I’m not feeling any worse.” 

“Mark’s not coming home until nine, it is a Wednesday, right? I can ask him to bring us home take-out.” Carrie trailed her fingertips down to grab Harrison’s hand. “We can order whatever you want though. I don’t think there's much in the kitchen.” 

“That’s fine, just get me what you order.” Harrison ran his hand through his hair, smiling at Carrie. “We’ve never held hands before.” 

“No, we have,” Carrie rubbed Harrison’s knuckles. “Just not like this. You held my hand when I was trying to explain my life to you, back when we first met again.” 

The pair grew silent, Carrie grabbing Harrison’s hand tighter and pulling herself to his side. She looked up to him, their eyes meeting momentarily. Carrie relaxed her body, gently wrapping an arm around Harrison’s ribcage, tucking herself into his chest, cautiously moving herself to fit beside him. Harrison kissed Carrie’s lips, fumbling around and trying to find a position that he could hold her in. Her hair engulfed his chin, and the weight of her body held Harrison in place, a simple way to say how both of them felt without saying anything at all. Harrison trailed his fingers on Carrie’s forehead, waiting for her eyelids to begin to flutter closed. 

⇣ 

Carrie pulled on a pair of white satin gloves, D.C. growing cold as October came to a close. She had spent the last two months prepping, writing briefs and talking to Harrison. They had spent their time together, spare the time that Harrison was away campaigning or Carrie had to go into her office. She recalled as the days and nights became more strenuous, more work to do and less time to do it, but knew that by tomorrow afternoon, it would all be over. She and Harrison would go to dinner for her birthday, then she would wake up with an hour to arrive to the courtroom, and after it was all said and done, the two of them could be together. 

She didn’t feel twenty-six as she looked in the mirror, with her hair pinned back and a black dress on. Carrie stared at herself, swallowing back the nerves that had been eating away at her sanity since she had woken up. Harrison had invited her to get dinner for her birthday, and after weeks of only eating take-out or leftovers together as they hounded over documents, she had jumped at the opportunity, quickly remembering just how much planning that she needed to do the day before. 

Harrison’s case was simple enough, something that could be done in an hour, in and out and signed off upon. Both sides had to reach a mutual agreement to split, and either that day or a month after, the divorce would be finalized. 

Carrie continued getting ready, taking off her gloves to pick at her nails with a cuticle pusher and powder her cheeks. She bent down to tie her shoes, Oxford heels. Taking hold of the purse beside her, Jennifer’s that she had borrowed, Carrie turned off the light in the bathroom, unplugging her straightener and heading down the stairs. 

She took one last look in the mirror, sighing as she took up the straps of her dress. Carrie grabbed her blazer from the coatrack and stepped outside, immediately slipping her gloves back on, feeling her teeth begin to shake from the cold. There was a beanie in her purse that she could pull on, but she had long eliminated comfort for the night ahead. She was already nervous for tomorrow, she didn’t need to be conscious of how she looked as she and Harrison went to dinner together. 

She stepped down from the front steps, onto the driveway as she saw Harrison leaning against the door of his limousine. Carrie walked to him, crossing her arms in an attempt to cut through the wind. 

Harrison stood with his arms crossed as well, wearing the same style of suit that he had always worn, skipping out on his maroon tie and replacing it with one that was black. His legs were crossed as well, his back stiff on the metal frame of the car. He stood with a sense of dignity, his body language showing off a certain swagger, a small smirk on his face. His facial hair was not as recognizable as it had been in the previous days, waiting to get a close shave before his appearance. 

“You look gorgeous,” Harrison said to Carrie as he placed his hand onto the small of her back, pulling her into his chest. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Carrie took hold of the collar of Harrison’s suit, fixing it from sticking up. She winked as she slid into the car, the door already open to the backseat.


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a continuation of the last chapter. I originally planned for this to be read in two parts, but AO3 isn't letting me post all of past two as it's own chapter. Just continue reading! Picks up right where it left off <3

She held onto the familiar leather upholstery as they rode, tucking one of her legs beneath herself. They rode in silence, no one talking but the driver to Harrison, double-checking the directions. Carrie reached across the center seat to take Harrison’s hand into her own. She watched his eyes squint as he cracked a smile, turning his head to face her. 

He reached into his suit pocket, feeling around and pulling out his credit card, checking the front and back then tucking it back in. Harrison stayed fidgeting, rubbing his fingertips together and tapping his feet on the floorboard. 

“Are you okay?” Carrie scowled, looking Harrison up and down. She held his hand tighter, unbuckling her seatbelt to move closer to him. 

“I’m just anxious about tomorrow, that’s all,” Harrison shrugged as he spoke. “I thought that tonight would get my mind off of it all, but I guess not.” 

“Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m in charge of this, you’re just along for the ride.” Carrie shifted both of her feet onto the seat, curling them under herself as she roped her arm around Harrison’s shoulders. “And if something does happen, you were once a lawyer too. I give you permission to go pro se.” 

“I don’t even remember what that means anymore.” 

“To represent yourself,” Carrie laughed. She played with Harrison’s tie, moving the clip up and down. “Don’t worry, we’ll do great.” 

The sun had already set, the city sky having faded from a deep blue dusk into the night. Carrie observed as they rode by all of the buildings, heading through the town and blazing past Capitol Hill. 

“I’ve never been inside there,” Carrie pulled the skin of her lips between her teeth. “What’s it like? Have you met all fifty senators?” 

“Carrie, there are 100 senators.” Harrison held back a laugh. “But yes, I’ve met all of them. I try to meet with them when they’re elected, like during the midterms in 2010.” 

Carrie playfully shielded her face, shaking her head. “You can’t judge me for that. I was only a political science major for a year.” 

As they rolled up to the backdoor of the restaurant, Harrison felt of his phone in his front pocket. He swiftly took hold of it, feeling the vibrations. “I need to take this, I’ll be right back. It’s Maria, UN Secretary General, remember?” 

Carrie stayed in the vehicle as Harrison stepped away, standing behind the backdoor, closing it behind himself. Carrie tried to make small talk with Harrison’s driver, but found herself unable to, Harrison’s nerves from before only heightening her own. 

She cracked her knuckles back and forth, making sure to hit the top knuckles below her nail beds. Her hair had fallen down from the bobby-pins she had arranged it in, making two mall pinwheels to pull back her bangs on each side of her head. Carrie fixed them back, wanting to ask for a mirror but doubting that Harrison’s driver had one. 

Her heartbeat had sped up, leaving her to focus on the sound of it beating in her ears. Carrie wished that she were at home, wrapped in her bedsheets and watching a movie, possibly with Sara, them laughing at a movie that they could watch together, like The Lorax or one of the Barbie films. Instead, she was alone in Harrison’s limousine, trying to create distractions for herself against the grueling task ahead of the two of them. It wasn’t that either of them were clueless on what to do, but the stakes that came alongside it. Harrison was getting divorced two weeks before election day and was only polling one-percent higher than his opponent. Carrie worried for their future together, knowing that she wanted to be with Harrison for as long as she could, but unable to scope out the uncertainties that would come from going public. 

Jillian’s interview had only done minimal damage, just sectors of the far-right running with it, but Carrie didn’t want it to be a foretelling of what was to come. They had both decided that they had met that July, after knowing each other while Harrison still taught, and that Sara came from a previous relationship. Her birth certificate didn’t read with Harrison’s name, so there waa no worry there, but the thought of Sara even becoming involved with Harrison’s public persona made Carrie feel unnerved. 

Although nervous, Carrie was still excited for dinner, impatiently waiting for Harrison to appear back outside. 

“‘You ready?” Harrison appeared back, sticking his head through the car window as Carrie had rolled it down. 

“Of course I am,” Carrie nodded, opening the car door and watching as Harrison continued to move it for her. He reached out his palm, Carrie taking hold. She hadn’t worn gloves for fashion before, confused as she felt the material rub against Harrison’s skin. 

Harrison guided her inside, through the backdoor and up a flight of stairs. Carrie followed gingerly, walking slowly to compensate for her heels on the steep stairs. 

“I should have just become a paralegal. I don’t know why I chose a profession that required women to wear heels. I don’t even know how to wear them for fun.” Carrie grabbed Harrison’s elbow, his body helping to hold her steady. 

She followed Harrison to their table, furrowing her brows as he pulled out her chair for her. “You don’t have to be so nice. Are you sure that you’re not dying or something?”

“It’s your birthday. I missed it the first time around.” 

“Thanks,” Carrie smiled, making sure that her dress was tucked onto the chair. “Do they have coat check? I guess they do, seems expensive.” 

“Yeah,” Harrison sat down as well, looking down to the menu. “It should be downstairs, our waiter will ask you and they’ll take it.” 

Carrie scanned the menu, finding it difficult to see in the dimmed room. She could see Harrison clearly, small Christmas lights hanging around the room and two candles sat onto the table alongside them. She needed her glasses to make out the selections, a reminder that it was her birthday and that she was growing older. 

Their waiter brought by a bread basket and water, pouring it into glasses straight from a glass vase. Carrie smiled to the waiter, impressed at how sophisticated that everything was. She slid off her blazer, looking around as she remembered that her shoulders were bare, for the first time realizing that no one else was there. 

“Are you going to give him your jacket?” 

“No, I’m kind of cold, actually,” Harrison coughed. “Thanks.” He waved the waiter away, the pair offering their order before he took Carrie’s jacket, Carrie ordering what Harrison had recommended. 

“You rented it out for me,” Carrie shook her head as she felt her cheeks grow hot. “That’s sweet.” 

“I know that you’re nervous about this too, but don’t let it ruin tonight. It’s your birthday, try not to think about it.” Harrison placed his menu back into the holder, Carrie following in suit. “You deserve to take a break.” 

“I’m flying with you to Atlanta on Monday night for your last debate. I can go out by myself there, go shopping, get food. Thank you, though. I’m more than ready to get all of this over with.” Carrie rested her head onto one of her fists, not bothered by the fact she had her elbows on the table, giving up any resemblance of caring as she had recognized they were alone. 

She took out the bobby-pins from her hair, slipping them into her purse that she had sat in the seat beside herself. Carrie ran her fingers through her bangs that were now down, once again framing her face. Harrison took one of the sides of fringe, placing it back behind her ears. 

“You are cold,” Carrie grabbed both of his hands. “Stop shaking, I’ll have to call an ambulance for you.” 

Harrison chuckled, forcing out a laugh as he sucked in his lips. 

Their waiter brought by their meals, dropping them off and nodding to both of them as they said their thank you’s. He offered napkins and extra cutlery, but they both passed up the offer. 

Carrie looked to her side before beginning to eat, growing even more anxious as she had noticed Harrison was. She wanted to ask why he was beginning to freak out on her, twitching his shoulders to remain calm. Carrie took hold of one of the menus, able to make out the title of the restaurant. She recognized the cursive lettering, big, loopy, hard to forget. 

“This is where we were in July, when we met for the first time again.” 

“It’s the same table, too.” Harrison breathed in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and his chest extending out enough for Carrie to see. 

“Why did you take me here? For us to get some last minute work done? To talk about what to do?” 

“Carrie,” Harrison sat his plate aside, still untouched. He took one of Carrie’s hands into his own, rubbing her knuckles and making sure that their palms were together. “I took you here because this is the place that I realized I would fall in love with you.” 

“What?” Carrie ran her tongue on her teeth, her confusion spreading from being mental to physical. She breathed in, letting the breath go quickly. She let her jaw drop, almost beginning to speak, but stopping herself, wanting to know if Harrison was going to say what she thought he would. 

“I knew that I loved you when I left you, that January. I loved your determination, and your smile, and how you could make me laugh. I didn’t act upon that, I didn’t want to hurt you. I did, though, and I know that.” Harrison swayed slightly and used his free hand to tap his nails on the table, humming to himself and trying to remember what to say. “I had a long time to reflect on that, and I promise you that I thought of you every single day.”

“I knew that I loved you then, but I didn’t know how to love someone. I was married, and I thought that was love, but we both know that it wasn’t.” He licked his lips, rubbing his eyes and trying to think clearly. Harrison had fumbled over a few words, restating them and having to concentrate on speaking. “What I’m trying to say is that, I fell in love with you here. It clicked. I knew that I was going to follow you wherever you led me. I knew that I would stand beside you with whatever you went through. I knew that I would try to protect and take care of you, even though I knew that you can do that on your own. I was determined to work on us. I was determined to develop a relationship with our daughter. And I did everything I promised you, even if I didn’t promise anything aloud. I don’t always do everything right, but I do everything I can.” Harrison felt into the left pocket of his jacket, placing his hand where he had slipped his credit card from, reaching in to grab something else. 

“I have never met anyone like you. You always know what to say, you have the answer to every question, the punchline for every joke. You’re a hard worker, you’re passionate. And you’re an amazing mother. I can’t even begin to know what all you gave up for her, and now that I’m here, I’ll always try to give that back. You act so brave, and you are, but you’ve got a soft heart. I’ve never seen someone capable of as much love that you are.” He shifted around in his chair, scooting to the side and placing his left foot down to test the waters. Harrison took his hand out of his pocket, his hand large enough to almost hide the box in his palm. 

“It took me six years to fall in love with you, but I promise that I am ready to love you for the rest of my life.” Harrison finally let go of Carrie’s hand, tapping his tongue on the roof of his mouth to keep himself calm. He let go of a breath that he had forgotten he was holding and finally moved from his seat. He had moved so quickly that he began to second guess his stance, not remembering whether to kneel with his left foot or right foot down. “I will spend the rest of my life falling in love with you.” 

Carrie removed the napkin from her lap, dabbing it under her lashes, realizing that she had tears falling down her cheeks, too drawn in to notice anything. She tried her best to maintain eye contact with Harrison, flashing a wide smile, her lips curling towards her gums. Carrie nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she felt the lump in her throat moving. She saw that Harrison’s eyes were glossed over, teary as well, though he was better at controlling his emotions. Carrie continued to nod, humming her agreement, unable to say anything out of shock. 

Harrison had been able to track her eyes, remaining silent as she stared at his face, waiting for her to shift her attention down to the ring. Carrie reached for the napkin again, ready to rub the fabric wherever she thought her mascara could have run. She moved her other hand to cover her face, knowing that her cheeks had become red, but stopped in her tracks, finally watching Harrison’s hands as he had wanted. 

“Carrie, will you marry me?” Harrison stayed looking up to her, waiting for the answer but already knowing the words.

“Yes, yes.” Carrie reached out her hand, not being able to feel as Harrison took grasp, her entire body dedicated to producing her happiness. She hadn’t noticed her muscles were tensed, and she had forgotten her anxieties from before. Her mind was spinning, thoughts dripping away from her, leaving her speechless, but without the desire to try and find the words. “Yeah, of course. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

She spoke as if she were pleading, using her acceptance to bring forth the emotions she had pent up for years, those of love, and hate, and longing for Harrison, but most importantly, her dedication to him. Carrie unapologetically tilted her hand directly to herself, pushing Harrison out her vision, that way she was able to examine the ring without seeing his face, knowing that if she made eye contact with Harrison again she would be enticed to cry harder. The lure was too much as Carrie found herself dragging her body into Harrison’s seize, collapsing into his lap as he sat back in his chair, placing her cheek to his face, and for the first time, Carrie knew the confidences that Harrison had in himself, bravery, lust, chivalry, and humility, all along stemming from a place of love. 

Their ride back to Carrie’s was far less silent, Carrie teasing Harrison for his stealthy lies before. He had explained to her the reason for proposing with a ruby instead of a diamond, that they symbolized power and beauty, and most importantly love. He’d learned that all later, wanting to buy the ring because a ruby stood for the birth month of July, Sara’s birthday and when they had met again. 

“I’ve never seen you be sentimental,” Carrie straightened out Harrison’s tie as they stood beside the limo, Carrie needing to get back inside and rest for the day ahead. “For someone who had never been in love before, you’re damn good at it.” 

“With you it’s easy,” Harrison massaged Carrie’s palm, raising her knuckles to graze his lips. 

“No, it’s not. I’m difficult, or at least I’d like to think that I am. I don’t like being vulnerable.” Carrie adjusted her bag on her shoulder, turning her ring so that the stone was centered. “You put it on crooked.” 

“It’s the thought that counts,” Harrison smirked. “Do you need to get in?” 

“I’m so cold, it’s fucking freezing.” Carrie rubbed her hands on her shoulders, doing nothing as her blazer covered them. “I’ll see you in the morning. Seven A.M., bright and early.” 

“Get some rest.” 

“You too,” Carrie began to turn away, coming back to kiss harrisons, her arms clasped behind him. “Goodnight.” 

Carrie smiled to herself as she walked away, skipping along the driveway and knocking on the front door, wanting to bring attention to herself as she arrived. She took off her gloves, slipping her ring onto her bare finger, holding it up to the light on the porch, seeing as the stone cast shadows in multiple directions and the gold band shone no matter how it was rotated. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had worn something that wasn’t cubic zirconia 

Jennifer unlocked the door and opened it, ushering Carrie inside quickly in an attempt to not let out the heat. Carrie hung her blazer and purse onto the rack, holding her left hand behind her back. 

“It’s almost eleven, what took so long?” Jennifer turned on the lights in the foyer, Carrie shifting her weight and trying not to smile too wide. 

“I just got back from having dinner with my fiance,” Carrie smuggly showed the ring to Jennifer, holding up only her ring finger, or at least trying her best to do so. 

“I know. He asked me if he could marry you a month ago,” Jennifer grinned, chuckling as she saw the surprise begin to register on Carrie’s face. “You and Sara were off doing something, and he stopped by and asked Mark and I. He doesn’t know your parents, but he knows about us. And he knows enough about us to know that if you came home engaged to someone that we didn’t like we would beat his ass.”

“What did he say?” 

“I don’t really remember, but it was enough to convince Mark. I would’ve been on board anyways, you’ve known me as long as you’ve loved him. You told me that the night we met. You were drunk in a bathtub like, ‘Wow, I’m in love with my teacher.’ And I fed into that for fun until we became best friends.” Jennifer tried to joke around, but found herself feeling heartfelt, wanting to project her sincerity. “It’s what you deserve. I always knew you would end up together.” 

“I can’t get over the fact that he asked the two of you,” Carrie was still dumbfounded, shaking her head in disbelief. “No one else that I’ve ever dated would have done that for me. He asked you two. I never thought that I would have someone ask anyone, because if we were close enough to get engaged then they would know that I didn’t talk to my parents. But he went out of his way to talk to you. That’s special.” 

“Did he tell you that someone from the UN was calling him?” Jennifer said as Carrie rolled her eyes.

“Yes! Did you call him?” 

“I had to! Do you know how hard it is to try and talk a forty-year old man through proposing? If something happens and you have to pawn the ring, at least give some of the money to me.” 

“I can’t believe that. I can’t believe any of this.” Carrie played with the ring again, sliding it off to look at the engraving on the inside. Both of their names, joined together. “He’s so much more than I thought he was. I need to get some rest, I have to be up early tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.”

“Luck’s been on your side all night.”

⇣

The shower began to run, cold water hitting the back of Carrie’s hand as she closed the shower curtain. She sat at the mirror, meticulously organizing her jewelry on the edge of the cabinet as she let the water warm. The tiredness that usually followed an early rising never came, and instead Carrie was wide awake, moving quickly and running off her nerves. 

She took off the ring that Harrison had given her and placed it onto a thin gold chain, a way for her to wear it to the hearing without raising any questions. The fluorescent lighting of the bathroom was unfamiliar, not nearly as bright when the sun was shining. Carrie removed her pajamas, trapping her hair into a large clip to keep it from getting wet, and stepped into the shower. She washed her face first, cleaning off the makeup that she wore the night before. 

As she walked back down the hall, wrapping her towel tightly around herself as the house had grown cold in the night, Carrie checked on each of her roommates, still fast asleep. She walked into Sara’s room, her daughter buried beneath the covers, sleeping peacefully with her hair in her face. Carrie moved her hair gently, kissing her forehead and leaving the room. 

Carrie pulled her only suit from her closet. She had almost always opted for a nice dress or a skirt for work, leaving the suit to remain untouched. Carrie tugged on the outfit, making sure that the collar wasn’t sticking up, and undid the clasp on her necklace. After placing the necklace around her neck, she tucked it beneath her shirt, the ring falling at the center of her chest. 

She waited outside for Harrison to pick her up, getting ready so quickly that the sun still had yet to rise. Carrie sat on the porch, double-checking that her hair was completely brushed in her compact and generously sweeping on more mascara. Everything she needed was packed into a briefcase, one of Mark’s that she had borrowed. Every paper that Harrison had ever signed that included his wife, every document that the court could ever need, it was all there. Carrie drummed her palms on the briefcase, breathing in the morning air and thinking about not only what could go wrong but also what could go right. 

Carrie sat down inside of the car and requested that the radio were to be turned on, placing her head against the window and lacing her fingers onto Harrison’s, not needing to speak. She sifted through the paperwork and counted all of the pages, recounting them twice to make sure that everything was there. There would be no trouble presenting contracts or assets, as copies had been provided to the court already, but Carrie kept the primary documents in the briefcase, on the rare event that they were necessary. 

The halls of the courthouse were empty, the walls barren and white, nothing on the floor except for benches outside of the rooms. Carrie trailed her hand across one of the walls as she walked, keeping herself steady as her head became unorganized, everything that she had learned and everything that she had planned leaving her memory just as fast as she could remember them. She scratched her palms to the beat of a melody she had created in her head to remember proper procedure, sitting down in a plush chair tucked beneath one of the tables of the courtroom. 

She kept her legs crossed tightly, buttoning her suit jacket to bite through the air conditioning. Harrison didn’t seem to be nervous, the opposite from the act that he had put on the night before. He sat beside Carrie, resting his arms on the table and playing with the pin on his lapel. Carrie watched as he did so, seeing the worn copper flag twirl around. 

The court reporter sat hunched over a computer, a cream colored desktop that resembled a box television. He typed away, the keys clacking serving as the only sound in the room. The sound came slowly, already an annoyance, Carrie knowing that it would only grow louder and faster as court officially began. 

Harrison’s wife sat down at the table to their left, with her own attorney in tow. Carrie hadn’t recalled ever seeing a photograph of Calista, although she knew that there were framed photos of the two of them on Harrison’s nightstand when she slept at his place in college. She never thought that the woman she was so afraid of coming home while she was in college would be the person she had to convince was fit for a divorce during her professional career. 

“That’s the person that you’re married to?”

“For twenty-four more hours,” Harrison stared at Carrie with a blankface, trying not to make her laugh in the courtroom. “Did you ever meet?” 

“Why would we have ever met? She’s been halfway across the country for the entire time I’ve known you. And if she were home, I wouldn’t be around. I didn’t know her name until I found it on some of your mail.” Carrie checked her watch, unbuttoning her jacket as court was beginning soon. “I didn’t know that you had a thing for blondes.” 

“What’s on your neck?” Harrison looped his index finger around the chain, rolling it up from beneath Carrie’s collar. 

“I didn’t want to wear my ring today. Well, I did, of course I did, but I didn’t think that it was a very good idea.” Carrie tucked it back in, swatting Harrison’s hand away. “I hope you’re not mad at me. Have you seen Sex and the City? The Carrie on that show does it with her ring, and her boyfriend Aidan gets pissed.”

“You couldn’t pay me to watch that,” Harrison shook his head. “But no, I don’t see why I would be mad.” 

Carrie continued to glare at the table across from the two of them, eyeing the lawyer opposite of herself. They had talked to each other over email a few times, but had never spoken cordially, only dry messages with nothing but details. She smoothed out her pants as she walked up to the podium, the judge calling upon both lawyers to answer any questions they would need to know prior to court beginning. Carrie had never been so close to someone in such a high figure of authority, sparing Harrison of course. She had only seen fake judges in mock trials, and hadn’t met the judge who had sworn her into the bar. 

The two of them remained standing, walking back to their tables but not having a chance to sit down. Neither parties needed a witness, and a divorce as simple as the one that would follow didn’t need a jury, which led to no one else needing to be admitted to the courtroom. One of the bailiffs closed the door to the public, the sound almost deafening as the oak slammed against its locks. 

“All rise,” the bailiff called out his command as he returned to stand near the podium. “Court is now in session.” 

“This is a civil case. Are both parties prepared to proceed?” Carrie stated her agreement to the judge, holding both hands in front of herself, swallowing hard as she ran through the monologue that she was going to state. “Fisher, opening statement.” 

“On June 11th, 2012, my client Harrison Ford filed for a divorce, with this demand being acknowledged by both the court and his current partner on July 10th. Ford has filed for divorce because of mutual distress concerning both sides of the marriage. I am representing his case under the pretense that there are multiple disagreements on each spouse’s future rights to property and possessions after their separation. My client asks for complete ownership of their land and home located in Wyoming, and would like the dissolution of their shared bank account to transfer the entirety of the funds to himself.” Carrie stopped herself, going back over what she was going to say to finish her statement. She took a deep breath and continued, tracing back the years that she spent studying how to do this. “My client has brought with him no witnesses and will not be representing himself in any way, shape, or form.” 

Carrie felt a shiver move across her skin, her thin hairs perking up and rubbing against her clothing. The room returned to its chilling silence as she finished speaking, only noting her own voice echoing from the walls. The reporter continued to type at his computer, this time far quieter than beforehand. 

“Were the documents detailing joint ownership provided to the court prior to this hearing?” 

“Yes. I have provided copies of these documents as well, on the count that they could possibly be needed.” 

“Thank you. Anderson, proceed.” 

Carrie watched as Calista’s attorney spoke, comparing her diction to his, how he held his body and talked slightly with his hands. She had been taught not to do that, but it seemed that he had no problem in doing so. She was working her first case, and Elijah Anderson, the attorney in question, was likely on his hundredth. 

He had repeated much of what Carrie had said in her opening statement, specifying different tangible objects that Harrison had acquired in his marriage, though. Carrie had predicted that it would be a clean break, although there could be a bit of a compromise from both sides. 

Carrie began to explain exactly what Harrison wanted to keep and what he planned to do with his assets, alongside his reasons for divorce. She removed the documents from her briefcase to read them, pointing out statements and clauses in contracts, utilizing the classes she had taken in contract and property law. After finishing another point in Harrison’s argument, Carrie stopped to hear the judge’s response, taken aback as she heard her opposing lawyer speak up instead. 

“Apologies for my interruption, but my client has informed me that she would like to further represent herself pro se.” 

Shooting a glance to Harrison, Carrie lost focus. She let her jaw drop, sending Harrison a look that asked for help, knowing that she couldn’t gain any. 

“In the opening statement for my side of this case, my attorney stated that I was requesting divorce because of the heavy dedication that my current husband has placed onto work and other aspects of his life that had taken significant time away from our relationship. One of the things that he was dedicated to during our time together was an affair with a woman who was one of his students at the time. The woman that I am referencing is the attorney standing at the desk beside me, Carrie Fisher.” 

Carrie felt her body recoil, her gut muscles tightening and her legs no longer firmly planted. She adjusted her stance, trying to turn her face as her eyes became fixated on a large stack of paper that Calista withdrew from a briefcase of her own. The stack was a mix of parchment paper, printer paper, notecards and notebook paper, with the visible top sheet showing large cursive writing, written in a blue gel pen. Carrie was able to make out a few words before they were handed to the judge, the date of January 12, 2007. Her letters were the evidence. 

“Objection, your honor. This is discovery abuse. Both parties exchanged papers beforehand and cleared them with the court. These papers were not part of that.” Carrie cleared her throat, wanting to stop the judge from beginning to read. 

“How are you able to recognize them?”

“Because I wrote them.” Carrie refused to give into the temptation to turn and look back at Harrison, her brain having a difficult time forming how his reaction would look if she were to. “I am not calling for this objection because the evidence is not truthful, I am calling this because it was not provided prior and I was not alerted of this by attorney Anderson.” 

The judge ignored Carrie’s objection, flicking through the pages and skimming the words. He nodded a few times, growing wide eyed. She suspected that he would have called a recess, but he did nothing of the sort, leaving Carrie to stand at the helm of she and Harrison’s desk, her back turned away, watching the private letters that she wrote to him become acknowledged by the court. 

“The true reason behind you wanting a divorce is that you found out your husband was cheating on you, via letters that she wrote to him while expecting their daughter?” 

“Yes.” Calista was handed back the papers by the bailiff, thanking him and instead of stuffing them back into the briefcase, directed them to Harrison, delivering them to his lap. “I found these letters in my husbands desk drawer, a year after the first letter was sent.” 

“Do you mind to testify for the validity of these letters?” The judge motioned to Carrie, pointing to the witness’s stand. 

“Yes, your honor.” Carrie walked briskly to where she needed to be seated, her back turned to the rest of the room as she moved. She had sat in makeshift stands in mock trials, but had never imagined that she would have to sit in one at a real court, knowing that using the lawyer as witness was only used in extenuating circumstances. 

While sitting in the chair, she was able to see Harrison’s face, his eyes staring back at her and his body compacted. He was chewing on his gums, attempting to remain collected. Carrie toyed with the chain around her neck, waiting for the direction to proceed. She was able to see Harrison swallow as she was directed to stand, and vowed to herself not to focus back on him. 

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” 

“I solemnly swear that I will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” Her nostrils flared as she sat again, dipping her chin down to avoid contact with Harrison. Carrie pulled at her slacks, noticing the fabric had begun to pill. She waited for the reporter to stop typing, then raised her head up, training her vision on the clock on the back wall. 

“What is the story behind these letters that you wrote to your client?” The judge turned to Carrie, folding his arms beneath the black robe he wore. 

“I met Harrison in September of 2006 on the first day of my first semester of college. He was my economics professor at Columbia University. I had impressed him during the class, and he told me to stay behind afterwards. He offered me to work as his assistant on his 2008 presidential campaign.” Carrie bit her lip, working as hard as she could not to blurt out the details of how he was the first person to ever take her seriously. “No one on campus that I had met believed that he had a chance, so I hesitated, but eventually I gave in. We had a strict work relationship, but over time he began to confide in me that he was looking to divorce his wife.”

Carrie remembered how unhappy that Harrison had become, and knew that she still had hatred and pain in her heart towards Calista, for being able to love Harrison. Even if she didn’t receive the same love back. It was all that Carrie could have imagined at that point - being able to love Harrison without feeling guilty, to love him with actual strings attached, not just cobwebs that she had figminted in her mind. Seeing Calista for the first time, in the courtroom, and hearing her speak for the first time, about feeling enough heartbreak from Harrison cheating six years ago to call for a divorce, made Carrie feel even more culpable. Her decisions at nineteen had ruined a marriage. If the marriage was already on the rocks before, Carrie had rolled in a boulder.

Carrie hung her head low again, grinding her teeth. “I had developed romantic feelings for him prior to that announcement, but after that, they were only heightened. Then, we began a sexual relationship that ended as Harrison moved away from New York before the spring semester.” Carrie didn’t know whether to speak about the rest of their time, as the judge had already said the reasoning for her letters loud and clear. She wanted to smack herself, to swallow every ounce of her pride and scream at the top of her lungs how much that she had fucked up. “I had a boyfriend at the time, and when I found out that I was pregnant, I lied and said that the child was his. I started writing the letters to what I presumed was Harrison’s new home address because of the guilt I felt from that. I believed that our daughter deserved to know her father, and in the very first letter I detailed that and included my apology.”

Her body felt heavy and her mind felt as if it were melting, perceiving this feeling as the way your body looks underwater, distorted and smaller. The excitement mixed with the timidness that came from speaking about herself and Harrison aloud was only comparable to sweating as it rained, the cold water falling onto you but your entire body still warm. “I wrote these letters for a little over a year and I never received a response. When Harrison and I met again, I was hired for him without either of our knowledge. He was not briefed on who his attorney was going to be, and I was not briefed on my client. Again, we kept a civil, work only relationship that led to both a romantic and sexual one late July.” 

Carrie heard her own shaky breathing, knowing that she was too far in to back out, giving into her humility. As if she were trying to swim in the shallow end of a pool. Her body was still hot, anger rising to her lips, words pushed back, retaining both her grief and her bargaining, wanting both to cry and to evoke the feelings that she had towards Harrison’s wife when she was freshly twenty years old. “I am aware that this violates ABA code, and you have the jurisdiction to act accordingly.” 

“This creates a conflict of interest as pertaining to Rule 1.7(b)(4).” The judge wrote onto a legal pad, scrawling away and saying the sentence under his breath. 

“I also have to object to it. Objection, relevance.” Calista stated, signaling to the judge with two fingers. 

“You’re the person who brought me to the podium to explain your evidence that was presented in the matter of discovery abuse,” Carrie said plainly, watching her tone, knowing that any second now she would stop biting her tongue. “I would watch my mouth and next time put your lawyer to good use before screaming out false objections after you have revealed to a room that your husband cheated on you and had your child with someone else. If anything, I could have called for relevance when you mentioned my affair, as you had plenty of evidence that led to your pending divorce beforehand. And do not represent yourself pro se if you are unaware of proper court procedures. Address the judge as your honor, and do not speak back. The only reason I am saying this to you is that I know that I am already in deep shit from what you’ve pulled.” 

“You can strip me of my bar, but as of right now I am still a licensed lawyer in the District of Columbia, and I have proven that I am the prime candidate to work this case.” Carrie caught herself on the verge of yelling, her body close to the microphone. She leaned back into the chair as much as she was able to, waiting for the judge to say something. 

“Parties are excused for a short recess,” the judge announced to the room, talking to the five individuals inside. “Get some water, do something that doesn’t involve adultery.” 

Carrie heard her heels clack as she stomped into the hallway, immediately sinking down onto one of the benches and closing her eyes. Her head hit the cold brick wall, feeling the smoothness from the white paint covering it. She interlaced her fingers, holding them in her lap and breathing shallow breaths. 

She fumbled through her purse beside her, laughing momentarily as she found a loose cigarette and a lighter. She hadn’t smoked since college, even then only a semester. Carrie stepped outside, proceeding to light up the cigarette on the balcony. She tapped the body of the cigarette before she did so. 

“Waking up the cancer?” Carrie felt a hand on her shoulder, Harrison’s breath on her neck. 

“I don’t think we need to talk right row.” Carrie lit the cigarette, placing it between her teeth as she swatted Harrison away with both hands. 

“You know, you were really brave with what you said.” 

“I wouldn’t have had to say any of it if you had read the letters. You told me that you never saw them, but apparently you did. You had the letters and you didn’t read them. Why the hell didn’t you read them?” Carrie kept her back turned, ashing off the burnt tobacco onto the railing. “Did you actually love me all those years like you said that you did?” 

“Yes. Yes, I did. And I still do.” Harrison turned his back to Carrie as well, looking up to the sky, the sun finally out. “I didn’t read them because of how painful that it would have been.” 

“Imagine how painful that was for me.” Carrie walked back inside, crumbling her half-smoked cigarette under her heel, tossing it into a bush. She crossed her arms, sitting back down onto her bench, looking away from Harrison as he passed her. 

Carrie felt someone tap her shoulder, motioning her to go back into the courtroom. She begrudgingly stood up, sighing as she felt her heel catch on the hardwood flooring. There was no use in further statements or testaments. Waiting for court to begin, Carrie shared a thin smile to Harrison. She immediately looked away, seeing that the whites of Harrison’s eyes had turned a dull pink, and his eyes had shifted from a warm hazel green into a dirty blue, like the color of a father’s faded blue jeans, worn. 

She could count on one hand how many times that she had seen Harrison cry, and even then, none of them counted. He’d cried a tear, or closer to a tear and a half, on the day that they parted, and his eyes had watered too much during his proposal for it to just be coincidental. There was a delicate line between the emotions of sadness and anger, and Carrie had walked the two as a tightrope that morning, but she knew that Harrison had fallen off one of the sides. Carrie wanted to ask if he was upset for his own selfish, reputation-ruining reasons, or if he was voicing her troubled sentiments for her. 

Carrie fiddled with her necklace, wanting to put the ring on, knowing that she was upset but wouldn’t be forever. She took her compact from her purse to check her makeup, smudging away mascara that had dried on her brow bone. Carrie turned herself back to Harrison to see him staring at her, a loose smirk on his lips as he had his chin sat on his knuckles. She shook her head, knowing that Harrison would attempt to deliver an apology but the timing being wrong. 

She rolled her palms against the desk, kneading out her nerves with the pressure from the wood, as the court shifted back into being in session. 

“Attorney Fisher, you have violated Rule 1.7(b)(4) by creating a conflict of interest through your relationship with your client; Rule 1.8(b) due to your testimony hurting a fair ruling for your client and persuading me, or any other judge, to likely side with his current wife; alongside Rule 1.8(j), stemming from a sexual relationship with your client beginning after you began representing him.” The judge looked up from his notes, nodding to Carrie and watching as she limply nodded back. “Ford will take his personal possessions and one-quarter of what was in the shared bank account. Flockhart, you will take the remaining three-quarters of the sum, alongside any property that the two of you shared. Divorce will be granted immediately upon the acknowledgement and signing off on by both parties, and the process of disbarment will begin for Fisher in the following days. The court will handle this. Case dismissed.” 

The gravel banged, and instead of being as loud to Carrie as everything else had been, she had drowned out the noise with her thoughts. She pushed in her chair quietly, removing her jacket and folding it over her right arm. Harrison tried to catch up with Carrie on their way out, with Carrie already strides ahead, off balance from her heels but not absent of strength. Knocking onto the window of Harrison’s vehicle, she opened the door herself to slip inside, ignoring his driver as he tried to speak with her. 

⇣ 

Carrie immediately ran up the stairs, her heels still on and jacket in hand. She had gone home to pack her bag, as she and Harrison would be spending two nights in Atlanta. Harrison was supposed to go inside with her, helping her pack in a timely manner and to celebrate their successful hearing on a real bed rather than the rock hard one of the airplane. Instead, Carrie had ridden back home without him, stepping out of the car as Harrison had stepped in and hailing her own cab. 

She stripped of her suit haphazardly, not caring if she had ripped seams or stretched the delicate fabric. Carrie looked at herself in the mirror, her hair still perfectly straight and her stature professional, then she turned her back, knowing that she would never have the opportunity to present herself as someone with a white collar job again. She hung back her head, moving her fingers into her hair to massage her scalp, tangling her hair in the process. Kicking the suit aside, collecting dust from the dirty hardwood, she flung open the doors to her closet. 

Carrie tugged on a sweatshirt and jeans, a comfortable pair without the need for a belt, and began to call it a day. She fell back onto her mattress, playing with the ties of her hoodie and watching her ceiling fan rotate. Turning her head, she scowled at her desk, none of the papers or books any use to her, not even the second degree hanging on the wall beside it. She was tempted to call her boss and to tell him to fire her, as she’d rather take that humility than resign herself, but remained still, her ears humming along to the fan’s rotation. 

The day had passed too fast, with court ending early at nine but the ride home taking ninety minutes for traffic, Carrie had to pack her suitcase and finally eat before another car would come to pick her up at twelve. She preferred not to move, just to wallow in her own doubt and dissatisfaction, but her suitcase was right beneath her feet, slyly tucked beneath the bed with the wheels sticking out from the bedskirt. She had made a mental checklist of what to bring, that composing of pajamas and one nice set of clothing, and maybe toiletries, because no matter how much she hated to admit it, hotel shampoo sucked, but Carrie closed her eyes, rolling her eyes as well, as she thought of how much she didn’t want to see Harrison again. 

Carrie wasn’t mad at him, at least she didn’t think so, but she was disappointed that he had lied to her about something that was such an integral part of their relationship. Either way, he hadn’t read the letters, but it was a way for Carrie to speak to him and express her feelings, even if she didn’t get a reply, for over a year. She tried to ignore his bullshit reasoning, that he didn’t want the pain of reading them, but he had to have been able to feel how desperate that she was through the envelopes. Perhaps it was payback, because while he had never lied to her before, Carrie had most definitely lied to him. 

She turned the ring on her finger around a few times, opening her eyes and being unable to contain her smile. If she was upset, so be it, she was still entitled to her excitement over their engagement. It would be impossible to stay mad at Harrison forever, which was a new thought that came to Carrie’s mind, having been a mix of angry and hopeless towards him for a large part of five years. 

While in the cab, Carrie had slipped the ring back on. The ring was burning away at her conscious, feeling guilty for hiding it away on her chest. She was still in the process of believing that she and Harrison were a legitimate item, creating an actual relationship filled with both resilience and feebleness. It represented the two of them being stuck together, the ring like yarn tied to someone’s finger, a ploy not to forget something. She wanted to show Sara the ring, to tell her that her parents would be getting married, but at the same time didn’t feel ready to. Carrie didn’t do well coping with change as a child, or an adult for that matter. 

At the same time, Carrie was dreading to speak to Harrison, already able to detect the urge to pick a fight with him. He’d lost her job, which was larger than the letters. She knew that she herself was clumsy when it came to juggling the components of their relationship, but Harrison had fumbled the bag. Four great months building their relationship together, then spending the day after getting engaged by suffering through the world’s most mortifying court case. She couldn’t help but to feel bad for him, losing property and dignity, but she had lost the stability in her professional life that she had been working towards for seven years. She didn’t know how to react to that. He hadn’t hurt her, it wasn’t necessarily his fault, but Carrie didn’t want to blame his wife, the poor woman getting dragged into all of this, even if she had been difficult to deal with. 

Carrie remained laying on the bed, trying to sort out all of her emotions into one cohesive thought. As she kicked her feet she could feel her suitcase, completely empty spare a pair of flip-flops. She wished that Jennifer were home, to rant to or to watch trashy tv, Jersey Shore sounding like a great way to take her mind off of things. And she wished to see Mark, to get his advice and to talk about their lives, living together but also in different worlds, him becoming less of a best friend and more of a roommate. Sara had been picked up by the bus, Carrie only taking her when she was able, which left Carrie without the option to even talk to her daughter, someone that wouldn’t understand but someone that Carrie could find purpose in being with. 

She finally dug into her closet again, tossing the jacket she had stolen from Harrison into her suitcase, coat hanger still attached. Taking hold of the first two shirts she saw, she threw them in as well. She stuffed in a pair of jeans and her suit jacket, dirty from the floor, and folded two pairs of pajamas. 

Carrie stepped into the bathroom, ready to grab her shampoo, and immediately jumped back, hiding behind the door frame. “You scared the shit out of me, do you know that?” 

“I didn’t know that you were home,” Mark spit toothpaste into the sink, rubbing his lips with a washrag. “I thought you were going straight to Atlanta.”

“I needed to pack first. And I didn’t know that you were home either, I must’ve missed your car on the way in.” Carrie grabbed her chest and felt her heart beating, laughing and loud of breath. “Holy shit, I’ve not been that startled in forever.” 

Carrie snaked around Mark to grab her things, wrapping them into a plastic bag so that if they leaked they wouldn’t ruin anything. She reached under the sink for a blow dryer, shoving it into the bag and trying to make it fit. 

“How was today?” 

“God, I’ll have to sit down for that.” Carrie placed her bag into the floor, slipping into the bottom of the shower. “Why’s it when I say something important I’m always in a bathtub? Or the equivalent? Jennifer and I became friends while I was sitting in a bathtub.”

“Are you okay? You’re stalling.” Mark leaned onto the sink as he spoke. 

“His ex-wife found the letters that I wrote and used them as her reason for wanting a divorce. I had to testify that they were true.” Carrie sighed, groaning as she realized the floor of the shower was damp. She stood up and wiped off the seat of her jeans. “I’m being forced from the bar because of it. And before you say anything about it not being fair, it is. I went to school for this, I took the tests. I know what I did was unethical. I’ll find a job elsewhere, I just don’t know where. The reason why she was able to use the letters, though, is because Harrison actually received them, and had them in his possession, for over a year, but didn’t read them.” 

“Are you going to be mad at him for something that happened that long ago?”

“I don’t know if I should be upset or not, that’s the thing. I put my heart and soul into writing those, but he knows all of that now because I’ve explained what happened. And even if he did read them, there was nothing that either of us could have done. We weren’t in the right place to reconcile. I was still mad at him when I wrote those, so if he had ever responded back I wouldn’t have read them.” Carrie coughed, playing with the drawstrings of her sweatshirt again. “So I shouldn’t be mad at him for something I would have done. In the long run, I don’t know why I was mad at him all that time anyway, since I was the one who lied. I’m in love with him, and I want to forgive him, and I know that I can, but it seems like too big of a deal not to cause a fuss over it.” 

“He would never try to hurt you,” Mark fixed his eyes on water swirling down the sink drain. “I’ve said some awful things about him before, but he loves you too. You have a right to be mad at him, though.” 

“I know that he would never try to hurt me, but he still has.” Carrie picked at her nails while she tried making eye contact with Mark. “I guess that I’ll see what happens this afternoon. Have you seen my ring yet?” 

Carrie flashed her engagement ring to Mark, taking it off to show him the engravement inside. She smiled as she spun it in the light, slipping it on again before Mark had the chance to hold it himself. 

“Jennifer and I saw that a month ago,” Mark laughed. “I like it, though.”

“You’re so lame.” Carrie held her bag and walked out, tying it and placing it into her suitcase before wheeling it down the stairs. 

The car ride to the runway was slow, dragging along as the rest of the day had. Carrie knew that she still had to fly to Atlanta and unpack in a hotel, and that would make her day last even longer. She spent the ride picking at her nails and cleaning out her phone, looking out the window at each turn to watch the scenery changing. 

Carrie smiled as her door was opened for her, Harrison on the other side handing her the same jacket that she had worn on her other plane ride. She zipped it quickly, walking past Harrison and onto the plane, the cold wind pushing her hair back. 

She found herself sitting on Harrison’s desk, the one sat in his office instead of the one in the bedroom. She played with the zipper, moving it up and down and wondering when the main door would close and there would be no more cold air inside of the cabin. Kicking her feet, as they didn’t touch the floor, Carrie waited for Harrison to come into the plane. She wanted to apologize for walking past him and not saying anything, but she didn’t know what to say, whether to be upset with Harrison or to not care at all. 

Carrie took her phone out from her pocket, checking the time and sighing as it was just turning two, the afternoon ticking by too slowly. Her luggage was placed beneath her feet, and the urge to slip into a pair of pajamas and sleep away the horrors of the morning was incredibly attractive. The day had gone one for too long, she didn’t want anything else to happen. 

Harrison sat down at his desk chair, spinning himself around to face Carrie, fixing the hem of her shirt and staying silent. She flicked his hand away with her index finger, showing Harrison a thin smile. 

“How mad are you?” Harrison asked, leaning his elbows onto the desk. “I’m upset about it too.”    
  


“I don’t know,” Carrie lamented. “There was an objection with no ruling?” Carrie forced out a laugh, ending her sentence with a questioned tone, trying to think of the words to say in response to Harrison. “I’m not pissed off because of what happened, because if I were in her position I would do the same. I’m upset that she was not reprimanded after the objection and I’m also upset because the judge was out of line in letting her continue. If there is anyone to be mad at, there is the unprofessionalism of both the judge and her lawyer.”

Carrie picked at the hem of her shirt, noticing that it was sticking up still. She made eye contact with Harrison as she shifted her legs to sit cross-legged on the desk, looking at him directly for the first time since early that morning. Looking at the man that she loved, and the same man who had never admitted to his betrayal. The man with no good reason to leave her hanging, with a year and a half to think of what to say before he couldn’t. 

“Mostly, I’m mad at you. Testifying under oath, she swore that you had the letters in your possession for over a year before she actually stole and read them. Don’t you think that more pain has come out of you not reading them than if you would have? You spent years without knowing if I, the only person that you’ve ever loved, was okay. It took you five years to find out that you have a daughter. The first letter that I mailed to you was mailed the next day.” Carrie remained focused on Harrison, his eyebrows slightly wavering and his thumb coming up to graze his lips. “I know you had a lot going on, but you’ve got more going on now. You should’ve done your job as a partner. I did my job. No one else did, not even you. And look where that got me. I’m out of work, and I could never successfully petition against that. That I violated code by having an affair with my client. It’s hard enough for women to obtain careers in law anyways, I guess it would be even harder if they knew I was a whore.” 

“You know that I never meant for it to be this way. And I still don’t.” Harrison entreated, wanting to reach out to Carrie physically but understanding that she wouldn’t want to be held by him. “Stop speaking about me in the past tense. I’m not going to hurt you again.” 

“Then why did you today?” Carrie felt herself become defeated, letting go of how tight that her muscles were and forgoing a hard persona. “You can tell me anything. I wouldn’t have been so upset if you had just told me. I tell you everything, why won’t you ever open yourself up to me. I love you, and I know that you love my back, but you’ve told me that, you've not shown it. I’m so in love with you, you’re my best friend in the world, why won’t you let yourself be vulnerable. You exposed yourself so much to me last night, and it meant everything. That’s the person that I love. You don’t have to keep secrets from me, you didn’t have to live with the guilt of that. I fought so much to be with you, aren’t you going to fight for me? Shouldn’t you have fought for me? Shouldn’t you have read everything?” 

“You can’t ask that from me.” Harrison shrugged. “You can’t ask for me to be someone that I’m not. I’m not an open person, and for most of the time that we’ve known each other I haven’t been. Isn’t that the person that you fell in love with?”   
  
“I’m not an open book either, but I can’t even begin to count how many times that I’ve cried with you, or all of the embarrassing things I’ve said, or the secrets that I’ve told you. I’m not asking you to say that you killed someone, or that you’re an alien in a skin suit. I’m asking that you stop being so uptight and you show some more emotion.” 

“Emotions are subjective.” 

“And as someone who is my fiance, you should know me well enough to know what I consider to be emotional or not.” Carrie noticed herself getting loud and trailed off, scoffing at herself. “I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I’m saying all of these things. I don’t know if I’m upset about today or not. All I know is that it’s been a shitty day and I just don’t want to see you. But I do want to see you. I don’t know what I want.” 

“Is that really how you feel about me? 

“I’m sorry.” Carrie struggled to find a reply, reaching out to Harrison’s shoulder and pulling his rolling chair closer to her. She reclined her head onto Harrison’s, her nose resting on his crown, inhaling the scent of his hair gel, the same kind that he had used since they first met. She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to push out other than another ‘I don’t know.’ “I just need to go to bed, I need this day to be over.” 

⇣

“People actually use these?” Carrie laughed as she picked up the microphone. The tan piece of plastic was connected to a wire and a mic pack, already pinned into Harrison’s back pocket. She slipped the mic onto his suit jacket, positioning it at the center of his chest. Between her lips was a bobby-pin, ready to secure the microphone even tighter. 

Harrison shook his head as Carrie continued to work, wanting to put some effort into preparing him for his final debate. She had fixed his hair, which was quite simple, and had taken on the job of reciting his policies. The debate began in fifteen minutes, the stage lights already on. The pair stood in the left wing, becoming sweaty from the heat of the lights gathering behind the curtain. Carrie’s baby hairs stuck to her forehead, with no use of prying them off. There was a fan to her right, but it blew directly in her face, her hair falling back to where it was anyway. 

“Are you excited?” Carrie slid the bobby-pin in place. She watched as Harrison’s opponent was hyping himself up in the right wing, talking with his people and looking over pages of paper stapled together haphazardly. 

“I’m not one for public speaking.” Harrison snickered, adjusting his microphone slightly as Carrie pulled her hands away. “But it’s part of the job.” 

“You’re the President of the United States,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “Why’d you chose to do this anyway?”

“It seemed like a great idea at the time.” Harrison took Carrie’s hands into his own, rubbing his thumb over her ring. “Besides, I didn’t choose this, the people did.” 

Carrie slung one of her arms over Harrison’s shoulders, rubbing her hand on his back after he had let go. She pressed her body into his, her head resting on his chest, her chin scratching against his microphone and her free hand resting on his lapel. “I hate that I got so upset with you yesterday. I was just pissed off, I guess.” 

“It’s alright,” Harrison smiled, patting Carrie’s back in return and pushing her hair away from her neck. “I should ask if you’re excited.”

“Of course I’m excited. I’ve got a hot, Presidential fiancé.” Carrie pulled herself away. “Now show them what you’re made of. It’s the final one, you better make it good.”

The two of them kissed, Carrie walking away as Harrison’s advisors walked up to him. His campaign advisors had always been cordial with Carrie, but they had never minded to push her out of the way. She had been his original advisor, before he even knew what a campaign advisor was. 

She watched from the back of the wing, then from backstage as Harrison shook their hands, smiling and greeting them with a joke, the men and women gathered around him laughing as he spoke. Carrie smiled as well, twisting her ring around and building up nerves, anxious to see how Harrison would fare. She secretly enjoyed being in a relationship with someone noteworthy, someone with an impact. Carrie liked getting what she wanted and when she wanted, and the part that she enjoyed most was that she was never truly a part of it. She could stand backstage or in the wings and never be noticed, but could still be in love and express it in her own way. 

Carrie checked a pamphlet that she had found in a dressing room, detailing the topics of the night. Six segments, each entailing a discussion of a topic. Gun control, the War on Terror, gay marriage, prison reform, just to name a few. Carrie read a short biography of each of the moderators, a woman named Paula and another named Phoebe. 

She heard the curtains draw back, the audience roaring and more light switches turning on. One of the sound booths was backstage beside her, and as she could see one of the audio technicians hard at work, Carrie decided to return to the wing. She had never watched Harrison debate before, at least not in person, and couldn’t help but to squeeze his hand just before he walked on for good luck. 

Harrison walked on first, planting himself firmly behind his podium, gripping the sides of its form and nodding to the crowd, letting one hand go loose and wave to the crowd. He had gained the habit of waving with his left arm once his cast was removed, one part to show his supporters that he was well, another part to keep it strong after a month out of use. 

As Harrison’s opponent took the stage, Carrie sighed, hearing the crowd become slightly louder. She leaned against the brick in the wings, a thin layer of paint covering them that kept them cool. His opponent was the epitome of a Republican, some gun-slinging, Bible Belt, white male conservative, hailing from the Senate. Carrie smiled at him briefly as he looked to his left, presumably at his supporters, but possibly her as well. She looked back at the pamphlet, rolling her eyes as she read the first two sentences about him. If there was anyone that she didn’t want to win the Presidency, ever, it was him. 

Carrie began to slump into the wall, relaxing as the crowd began to die down. She crossed her arms, grabbing her elbows as she reclined. Carrie had put on a simple pair of jeans and a tank top, throwing Harrison’s jacket over it. It was a thin windbreaker, actually working against the heat rather than with it. She had painted her nails the night before, taking a nap on the plane to sleep away her anger, then waking up at the hotel with nothing to do, Harrison falling asleep just as they had arrived. Carrie looked at her nails, bright pink, a color that she didn’t like but the only color from the hotel gift shop. 

She heard one of the moderator’s begin to speak and regained her attention to Harrison. Carrie didn’t focus on the question, rather she was anticipating the audience’s reaction to Harrison’s answer. 

“I think that, when it comes to a marriage of any kind, not just one that is considered non-traditional, such as the topic we are discussing: gay marriage, that it is essentially about family and a familiar connection. The sanctity of marriage is not ended with the act of gay marriage being legalized, rather it is strengthened. It is not impossible for a family with two fathers, or two mothers, to have the same or better morals in comparison to a male and female couple.” Harrison spoke with his hands, physically weighing the argument. “We all know how I feel about this, I’ve been pushing for a legalization since my first campaign.” 

“You’re certainly someone to be talking about family.” Harrison’s opponent raised his brows, smirking and shaking his head. “Court records are public.” 

Carrie noticed that he wasn’t looking at Harrison, nor the audience, rather looking straight at her. She wanted to laugh, to try to think what he had said was an ill-fated attempt at comedy, but she remained still. She narrowed her eyes, listening to her heart beating in her ears, the sound of her own reflexes louder than the crowd that had become a mix of adlibs, loud ooh’s and hollers. 

“Yeah? Well, what did you find out?” Harrison leaned over his podium slightly, brows raised and a smirk on his lips even as he spoke. He had become cocky and wanted to exercise his defenses, leaving Carrie to hide her face in her hands beside the stage, already knowing where the conversation was going. 

“Don’t act so innocent. Don’t act like an affair is nothing to hide. You hid a child for five years, so maybe an affair isn’t the largest skeleton in your closet. You already took your girlfriend with you to New York, Carrie Fisher.” 

Carrie clenched her teeth, bringing her hands down to cock her head at Harrison, waiting for his comeback to shut his opponent down. She held her hands together, cracking her knuckles as Harrison started to speak, not looking to Carrie before he started.

“I’m not ashamed of loving her. The only thing that I should be ashamed of is staying married for so long when I was never in love with my ex-wife anyway. You cannot make me feel guilty for finding someone that I care about, and you have no business insinuating that I am ashamed of being a father. You can poke holes in my logic, you can criticize my policies, but you can never insult my life outside of politics. I have never mentioned your pervious marriages or your children’s opposing political views. If you think that demeaning me for loving another person unconditionally, though not publicly, makes you a better candidate than I am, then you are dead wrong.” 

Carrie tried listening, but could only feel her feet pacing beneath herself, wanting to sprint off to their car parked outside, or to find a way to cut both of the mics. She closed her eyes, feeling them twitch in annoyance. Harrison had vowed to keep Sara’s life private, and while he was only saying vague, great things, he was talking about her to an audience of over a thousand, and twelve million over cable television. 

“Having a daughter is not a ‘skeleton in the closet’ for me. If you didn’t snoop into my personal business as my opponent did, you would be unaware of my relationship with her. I didn’t know of her existence until this July, as her mother and I split before I knew about her. And these past four months knowing her and having the life changing opportunity to step up and to be a father has been the most amazing four months of my entire life. She means the world to me, and to say that she is something that I would rather keep hidden is humiliating on your part, and make me feel hurt. I’ve kept her life private because of people like you, who would use her against me.” 

The crowd had remained silent, but as Harrison finished his speech they began to roar, overpowering Carrie’s heartbeat trapped within her ears, ringing out across the theater. She wanted Harrison to stop speaking before he had even started, shooting himself in the foot over and over again, ruining the promise that both of them had made, shortly before getting engaged. Carrie’s life was to be published alongside him once he won, or lost, the election, and Sara could be a part of it if she wasn’t considered as Harrison’s. Carrie wanted their daughter to have protection, not notoriety. 

She heard Harrison clearing his throat, tapping his microphone on his chest and the one in front of him, trying to speak again, but unable to over the crowd, even if he were to shout. Carrie had kept her eyes away from the crowd, but when she finally looked at them she could see the camera crew, two of the cameras pointing straight to her. She covered her face once again, zipping the jacket and pulling the hood above her head and drawing the strings tightly, almost none of her face exposed. 

“Get me out of here.” Carrie grabbed onto someone’s sleeve, a man that she knew worked for Harrison, not remembering if he was working for his campaign or if he was a member of Secret Service. He pushed her back to where she had stood before, only for Carrie to grab onto him even tighter. “I said to get me out of here. I don’t care if they need me for a shot. I don’t care if the person that I came with is standing on that stage. I want to go back to the hotel. I can’t stay here any longer.” 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, someone calling her. Carrie initially left her phone ringing, not wanting to deal with anything, but pulled it out and to her ear without checking the caller I.D. first. She walked alongside the man to the back of the theater, out the back door and into Harrison’s limousine. “Hello?” Carrie answered, still unable to hear as her ears remained buzzing. 

“Hello?” She tried answering again before hanging up, seeing that it was Jennifer. She tried to smile, still unable, as she checked her text messages from her. Jennifer had been just as concerned, watching the debate on CNN. 

Carrie slammed herself into the seat, rotating her neck to stretch it out. She buckled her seatbelt, ready to leave. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head up to the ceiling, again not knowing what to do. The past two days had been Hell, and she knew that they would just get worse. She undid the ties to the jacket that she wore, then unzipped it to place it in the floorboard. “Would it be too much to drive me to the hotel, then circle back to get Harrison when this ends?” 

Carrie felt the car begin to accelerate as she played with her ring, slipping it off, then back on, twisting it down her ring finger. She sighed, turning it again and then shutting off her phone, not wanting to know what else would happen that evening. 

⇣

She sifted through the rolled up ties, the folded slacks and socks. Harrison packed as if he was moving across the country, enough clothing to last him a month. Carrie continued to look through his luggage, pushing past the thick linen of his button-ups and the thin cotton of his t-shirts. Her nails caught on his socks, wishing that they weren’t folded into each other inside out. 

She unzipped the front pocket, desperately searching for what she needed. Her hands felt around on the sheer fabric of the pocket, nothing there except for air. Carrie groaned, zipping it back and reaching for his duffle bag. 

As she fumbled around, her hands moving through the swarm of clothing, Carrie could hear footsteps from the hall. Muffled voices were asking questions and giving advice, presumably to Harrison. She could ordinarily recognize the sound of Harrison’s trail, but with so many people crowding the hallway she was unsure if it was him. 

“Listen to me. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t care what any of you are saying to me.” Harrison walked backwards to his hotel room, trying to keep his advisors teeming around him to stop voicing their suggestions. “It’s a big deal now but it’s going to blow over.” 

Harrison tried to stay patient with them, having to absorb their pleas for damage control on his ride back to the hotel, chatting off his ears with different ideas. He had pushed for the driver to get him to the hotel quickly, on the pretense that Carrie had already made it to their room. He hadn’t noticed that she had left until the event had ended. 

“I said for you all to stop talking about this. Let me go to my room.” Harrison wanted to shove everyone away, trying to deflect them by resting his hands on his hips as he walked, the outstretching of his elbows serving as a barrier around himself. He could feel hands on his shoulders and could still hear voices in his ears, so many people talking at once and attempting to get his attention that he himself couldn’t even focus on one. “Get me to my room. Let me fucking see her.” 

Carrie sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped together holding what he had been searching for, resting between both of her palms. She had sucked her lips in, knowing exactly what she wanted to say but not knowing where to find the strength to do it. A chill ran through her body, a mix between her own apprehension and the air conditioning turning on. The radiator near the window shook, and the footsteps from the hallway grew closer. 

Harrison opened the door, quickly opening it fully as he walked in, searching for Carrie and letting their eyes meet. He stood in place, closing the door behind himself, sighing before he walked closer to the bed. Carrie looked up to Harrison, her hands still laced together as she stared at him, presenting a blank face to him. 

“Why would you do that? Actually, don’t answer that. You did nothing to keep us quiet. You admitted to everything at the very first mention. Don’t say that what you did was out of love, because I know that it partly was. The other part of that was just to look good for everyone else. It’s not fun being in love with someone that has to act righteous in the eyes of three-hundred million others. You didn’t want to lie, I understand that, and I like that you didn’t. You know your ethics when it comes to business.” Carrie cocked her head to the left side, dropping down her shoulders. “But who are you when it comes to me? When it comes down to it, what will you choose in life? Are you going to expose the life that we both promised to keep silent to reinforce your image? I told you that for us to work that I didn’t want the entire world to know about Sara. I don’t care if my life is ruined by all of this, I care about her. Sometimes, it’s better to shut up than to keep going, even if that’s what everyone else wants you to do.” 

“And in saying all of this,” Carrie rubbed her palms around what she held inside. She looked away from Harrison, her eyes shifting low so that she could blink away her lamentation. She palmed the item, making a soft fit around it, and before opening her fist to Harrison, she physically backed away. “I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much. I’ve told you this a million times, I even repeated it all last night, but I love you. I love that you’re such a headstrong person, that you’re upfront. I love that you care so much about me. And what I love most of all is how great you’ve been to Sara, that you’ve been her father and been able to give her the one thing that I couldn’t.”

“I love you, but I can’t do this.” She made eye contact with Harrison again, instinctively looking away, then forcing herself to look directly at him. Carrie refused to register the look on his face. “Here’s your ring.” 

Carrie opened her hands to reveal the box that her ring had originally sat inside. She had hypothesized that it was still in Harrison’s possession, and she had been right. The ring was tucked back into the two pillows, the silk encasing both sides. She didn’t have the heart to open it up, her fingers still clutching the velvet. 

“Don’t do this.” Harrison placed his hands onto Carrie’s shoulders as she tried to stand. “Every time that something goes wrong, you run from it. Is it that hard for you to rid the wave?” 

“You’ve put me through worse.” Carrie pried Harrison’s hands off of her, tucking in her bottom lip to keep herself from showcasing her weakness. “I could’ve decided to never speak to you again, you know that, right? That I could have said no in July, and this all could have been simpler.” 

“You’re being irrational.”

“No, I’m being realistic.” Carrie sat the box onto the bed, sinking slightly into one of the many blankets. “You fucked up everytime. I told you that you didn’t because I wanted you to have a second chance. I don’t know if you had a first chance anyways. You fucked up every single time, and if you read the letters then you’d know. I don’t even have a job anymore because of you.” 

“Carrie, you’re upset because of what I said tonight. I understand why you are, and I knew that you would be. You don’t have to put up a wall to try to defend yourself. I know that you’re angry. I know why you’re mad.” Harrison watched Carrie fidget with her jeans, pulling at the denim that hung loose on her thighs as she avoided looking at him. 

“Can everyone else see through me the way that you do?” 

“No. Other people would be oissed at you for doing this to them. I know why you’re acting this way.” He took Carrie’s hands into his own, Carrie letting him but holding on faintly. “You’re scared. I wish that I could go back in time and fix this. I wish that I had a way that made it to where I could never hurt you again. I wish that I could always provide you with pleasure instead of pain. But you know that I can’t. You can’t do the same for me either. You were right with what you said, that I need to open up more. I’m not putting on a facade for the world like you think I am, I’m putting one on so that I don’t cause you to suffer. I don’t want to make you sad, I don’t want to make you upset. You don’t know how many hours that I’ve spent alone trying to think through my mistakes I’ve made when it comes to you. You don’t know how hard that I cried after you told me about Sara and everything that I had missed out on. You don’t know the stress that I go through everyday trying to make sure that I treat you exactly how I should.” 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She drew her hands away. Carrie felt her face compress, her brows closer together and her eyes squinting. She could feel the tears on her waterline, and still cleared her throat to speak as if the knot in her throat wasn’t present and that her face wasn’t going to be drenched by her tears, The urge to sob grew, but she fought back against it, planting her legs firmly onto the ground, ignoring how hard that they were shaking. “I’m sorry. I am. I’m so fucking sorry. I just can’t do it. I am scared. I do run when things don’t go my way. And I shouldn’t. And I know that. But I can’t. I don’t- I don’t know how we’d work through this. I know that I’ve hurt you, and if I stay I’ll only continue to. I’m sorry. I love you. I shouldn’t.”

“I got someone who works for you to book me another flight home. It’s in an hour. I’m flying home on economy.” Carrie thinly smiled, wanting to lighten the mood. “I guess I better get going.” 

Carrie took her suitcase into her hands, as it was already resting beside the doorway. She kicked the side of it, regretting her yearn to leave. Harrison was still right behind her, watching her as she started to leave, her free hand reaching towards the lock on the door, inches away from turning it. 

She spun back around, opening her arms and pulling herself into Harrison’s chest. She held onto his ribs tightly, wrapping herself around him. Her head rested on his chest, right on the lapel of his jacket, sitting on top of his heart. Carrie felt Harrison’s fingertips scratching her scalp, holding onto her head with one hand and her back with another, moving his fingers up and down. She wanted to let out another desperate ‘I love you,’ because she did, but didn’t allow herself to do so. 

Carrie knew that she had her life still waiting for her, even if it had been put on hold for Harrison. She wanted to press play again, to go back to what she had known, with him included, but instead omitted him, snaking herself out of his grasp on her own, grabbing her suitcase and opening the door, letting it hit her on the way out. 

⇣

There was a sense of familiarity as Carrie stepped into her bedroom. Her blinds were drawn up, but no light escaped in, the sky still pitch black. It was raining quietly, creating an ambience similar to that of the first time that Carrie had left Harrison, retreating to her dorm and shutting all of the lights off, listening to the buzzing of her fan and burying herself into her pillows. 

She kicked off her shoes, checking the time to discover that it was past midnight. Her suitcase was downstairs, situated next to the door as she didn’t want to drag it up the stairs. Carrie tossed off the jacket that she had on, taking her phone out of the front pocket. She hovered over Harrison’s contact before turning off her phone and chucking it into her nightstand, hoping to forget where she had put it. Carrie left on her undershirt, changing into fluffy pajama pants and finding a spare blanket in her closet, curling up in bed. 

She was the only person in the house still awake, predicting that both Mark and Jennifer were home for the night. She wanted to knock on Jennifer’s door, to ask if what she had called her for had been urgent, then use that to segway into her night, but she knew she was sleeping. Carrie had held onto her plane ticket, playing with it between her fingers, almost ripping it in half. She had only ever been on Harrison’s plane, and to no surprise, the military run Air Force One was much better than flying Delta. 

Carrie peeled off her blankets, walking over to her desk and studying the books sat upon it. She picked them up, one by one, and sat them in an empty cardboard box. Carrie had finally finished unpacking in late August, but had left one of the boxes there for storage, under the pretense that she would ever have anything extra to put away. She had recognized that there was no use for them anymore after court, but didn’t have the time to get rid of them. 

Now she would have all the time in the world, until something dire came along. She didn’t need to send in applications to work anywhere just yet, and there was nothing better to do than to try and erase the past six years from her memory. 

Carrie opened each of the books, rereading old notes that she had written inside of them. Her neat handwriting from her first year of law school, then messy, quick cursive from the last. None of it made sense to her then, and it didn’t need to now. She placed them into the box delicately, knowing they were all expensive, even higher than her ordinary textbooks, then began to stop opening them and just tossing them, hearing them slam together, dust floating up from the edges. 

Her suit jacket still sat on the floor, her pants beside it. She picked up the outfit, folding it messily and tossing it into the box as well. Inside her desk were pens that she had stolen from Harrison’s study years ago, low on ink and halfway dried. She tossed them into the trash bin beneath her desk, taking the photo of Mark in one of Harrison’s campaign shirts from her drawer as well and throwing it away for good measure. 

She didn’t want to forget about Harrison, the person he was and the person he became, but she wanted to forget about the last two days, and everything associated with them. Everything had fit together perfectly before, and of course there were hard days, but nothing truly bad. Carrie didn’t think that either of them could do something that would lead to giving up on each other, and they hadn’t. She just believed that, for the time being, whether that be for a month or another six years, they didn’t need to see each other. Carrie didn’t know how to think about Harrison without becoming upset, either angry or depressed, and she didn’t want those emotions to be associated with him. 

Eventually she would have to see him again, and sometime soon, because just because she was unhappy with the state of she and Harrison’s relationship didn’t mean that Sara was. She didn’t have to know just yet, adn Carrie wanted to to spend time with him, however long and however much that she wanted, because while it was hard, co-parenting wouldn’t be impossible. 

She didn’t want that, though. Carrie didn’t want them to have broken up or to have started a break. She knew that Harrison was mumbling swears in his sleep as she was cleaning her desk, that he was likely just as mad at her as she was at him. Perhaps their shared emotions would cancel each other out, rendering their past two tumultuous days as something that had never happened. She had debated whether it was worth it to leave Harrison or not, if loving him outweighed losing her personal security, losing her job and income, losing their daughter’s anonymity. 

Harrison didn’t have any ill intentions, it was all only a perfect storm. The one thing that Carrie believed was an actual reason to be mad was that he had never read her letters, and if she was going to be honest with herself, if he had sent her letters then she wouldn’t have paid them any mind either, likely lighting them ablaze in a fireplace or cutting them into perfect halves. 

Carrie noticed that she had been alone in her thoughts, standing still and no longer cleaning. Her body was tired, from both the stress of her emotions and the small seats on the plane. As a final act of letting go, she took down her law degree, noticing that some of the glass was already chipped, a sign that she would have never made it. She stuffed it into the box, fighting right on top, and folded in the cardboard flaps, kicking it with her toes and pushing it into the very bottom of her closet. 

Falling back onto her mattress, Carrie retreated back to her blankets again, turning off her lamp and hitting her pillows. 

Jennifer knocked lightly on Carrie’s door, waking her up hours after the sun rose. The door was unlocked, and Jennifer let herself inside, tiptoeing to her bed before knocking her with one of her pillows. 

“It’s five o’clock.” 

“In the morning?” Carrie hummed, covering her eyes with her duvet cover. 

“Yes, in the morning. Of course the sun is fully out.” Jennifer threw another pillow at Carrie. “It’s five in the afternoon. You’ve slept all day.”

“I’ve had a rough fucking week.” 

“It’s Wednesday.” Jennifer peeled Carrie’s blankets off of her, moving them onto the floor. “I made you a birthday cake, since we didn’t get to spend it all together. Come downstairs.” 

“Okay,” Carrie sat up, reaching for a sweatshirt draped on one of her bedposts. “I’m up. I’ll be down in a second.” 

Carrie changed into a pair of jeans, darkly washed and clinging to her knees. Her sweatshirt hung below her waist, oversized, not knowing whose it was. She checked her nightstand to see her phone, keeping it in there and making sure that it was completely turned off. Taking some socks from her drawer, she pulled on her longest ones, her feet instantly cold as they had touched the floor. 

As she walked down the stairs, she could hear that it was still raining. The roofing there was not quite as thick, and the raindrops echoed her movement down the stairs. Mark handed her a paper party hat as she walked into the living room, tying the elastic below her chin. Sara sat on one of the arms of the couch, wearing one of the hats as well, the rim of it buried in her full head of hair. 

Carrie sat on the couch beside her, holding her arm around her to make sure that she didn’t fall, her head resting on her side. 

“Happy birthday,” Sara smiled as she spoke. “We got you a card!” 

“Thanks.” Carrie smiled back, pulling her down to the couch cushions to hug her, having not seen her awake in two days. “I missed you.” 

Carrie tucked some of Sara’s hair behind her ears, taking a hair tie from her wrist to pull it back into a ponytail. Jennifer would know how to fix it, but she was in the kitchen with the cake, and Harrison had learned how to as well, but thinking of him wouldn’t be any help. 

“Okay, I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just made you a vanilla cake.” Jennifer laughed as she carried the cake into the living room, the frosting dropping off the sides and the cake itself lopsided. Mark laughed as well, covering his face so that Jennifer couldn’t see. “I know it looks terrible, let’s hope that it tastes fine.” 

“Did you have a good real birthday?” Mark winked to Carrie as he tightened his own elastic string on his party hat. 

“Yes,” Carrie rolled her eyes. “The days after were not so great, though.”

She watched as Sara pulled her hair down, undoing the ponytail holder. Carrie took it back from her, wrapping it around her wrist. Sara shrugged her shoulders, flashing a smirk and a smile. She didn’t have the heart to acknowledge how much that she looked like her father. Sara had grown accustomed to the adults in her life always being away at work, much to Carrie’s dismay, and that led her to not ask where Harrison was. 

Jennifer placed the candles onto Carrie’s cake, all twenty-six of them, lighting them with a long lighter and wafting away the small plumes of smoke. “Do you want us to sing Happy Birthday?” 

“Why not?” Carrie sighed, becoming amused by the look on Jennifer’s face. She didn’t enjoy the song, it took too long and there was nothing meaningful to do as it was sung to her, but she needed something to distract her, even for a moment. 

Sara still sat beside Carrie, looking up to her as she joined in on singing the song. To hear her call Carrie her mother as she sang, saying happy birthday to her mom, led Carrie to grab onto her tighter, kissing her forehead and nuzzling her nose into her crown. The only upside to being out of a job would be more time with her daughter, but the reason that she worked was to support her. She had spent the entirety of her life studying or working, wishing that she could find more time to spend with her. Carrie regretted nothing about being a mother, other than the split second decisions that it had forced her to make, driving her down a path of employment for the rest of her life. 

Even with her daughter beside her, one of the only constants in her life for years, Carrie felt as if she were alone, separated from everyone else and guarded by the elephant in the room. Mark told her to make a wish, but she had nothing to wish for, as there was nothing in her life that she believed could be resolved, simply blowing out all of the candles and then picking them off one by one. She marked herself as officially twenty-six as the cake was cut, but still felt seventeen, making decisions similar to that of a high school student, acting too impulsively. 

She bopped her head along to the radio as Jennifer turned it on, swaying on the couch with Sara and Mark, but knew that she was dancing lonely. Jennifer ran back into the kitchen, coming out with a handful of presents and a card. Carrie forced her lips to turn upwards as Jennifer walked in, faking a surprised look. 

Carrie opened her presents, one from each of them. Mark had gifted her a scarf, and though she vowed to never wear scarves, she thanks him anyways. Jennifer had given Carrie a mug, joking that she would use it more than the wine glasses she had gifted her a few Christmases ago. Sara had made her a bracelet, with Jennifer’s held of course, and Carrie tied it on immediately, double, then triple-knotting it, not wanting to ever lose it. 

“We wrote the card a month ago,” Mark handed the card over to Carrie. “I think my handwriting has improved a lot since then.” 

Carrie slid her finger under the edge of the card, cutting through the liquid cement. She opened the card, with multiple signatures on it, from Mark, Jennifer, and Sara of course, but also Mark and Jennifer’s partners, and even Harrison. She covered his message with her thumb, blocking it out enough to make it unreadable. She let the thought of him being there graze her mind, for him to show up now, unannounced, but pushed the thought away, trying to think realistically. As she closed the car, his message still unread, Carrie leaned over to hug Mark, then stood up to hug Jennifer. 

“You got a package in the mail today, I think that you should go and get it.” Jennifer patted Carrie’s back, pointing her to the front door. Carrie furrowed her brows, walking to the door and waving goodbye as she would be out of the house momentarily. 

She swore under her breath as she walked onto the pavement, the driveway rough with only socks on. The mailbox was only a few feet away, the walk there seemed to last forever, having to step slowly from the slight pain.

Carrie opened the mailbox, taking out a cardboard box that fit perfectly inside, then another sitting below the mailbox, wrapped in a plastic bag because of the rain. She remembered that it had been raining earlier and turned herself to face the sky, running inside with her two packages before the rain started up again. 

She took the box cutter from one of the drawers in the kitchen, and began to slice away at the tape, stopping abruptly as she read the return address. Carrie took a deep breath and continued to open the first box, unfolding it to find a stack of the letters that she had sent to Harrison, with the first one marked in red pen signaling the date of their court case, in Harrison’s handwriting. She turned it over, having written her first letter on cardstock, and saw more red ink on the back, a response to what she had said. Flipping through the stack, attempting to count as she went, she realized that over forty of her letters were there, and each one had annotations.

_ January 12, 2007 _

_ Am I going to send this? Probably never. And if you ever receive this, I would suggest tossing it now. I’m back in my room, right after leaving your place, and Mark’s in the bed across from me, Jennifer’s on the floor. They don’t know that I’m writing this, so I’m keeping this brief, in case they decide to glance over my shoulders.  _

_ You will never take away my power to be somebody. You will never know how determined that I am, you will never know any of my emotions.  _

She read the opening of the letter placed at the top of the stack, not wanting to read on. He knew now, he knew everything, even the words that were left unsaid. Carrie folded the flaps back to close the box, carrying both of them up the stairs. 

Carrie closed her blinds, then covered them with her curtains, turning on her lamps and sitting at her barren desk. She lifted out the contents of the first box, laying the first letter to Harrison down flat, and continuing to read. 

_ There’s nothing left for me to tell you that I haven’t. There’s things I want to say though, that would hold no purpose, as they wouldn’t have any meaning to you. I’ll let you live, I’ll let you work. See your wife more, she probably misses you, even if you don’t miss her. Pet the dog for me, please.  _

She glanced over to her closet, knowing that all of her papers that she needed for Harrison’s case were hidden away there, all of the details of why he and his wife hadn’t missed each other while they were apart. His dog had passed away before they met again, but she knew that her hello wouldn’t have gone unappreciated. In the rest of the stacks, she knew that she confessed to all of her feelings, and she didn’t want to read them. 

She had to read them, though, a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia running through her. There was the option just to read what Harrison had said in response to her, but she wasn’t ready to read that without the added context. Before Carrie began to read again, she opened the second box, a stack of around ten letters, the last few that she had written. Above the date on the last one was the date of the debate, less than twenty-four hours before. He had read the letters as soon as they were handed to him in court. 

“Well, what did he get you? Some sappy apology gift?” Jennifer walked into Carrie’s room, her door still opened. 

“How’d you know I’m mad at him?” 

“I have cable television. I’d be pissed off too.” Jennifer sat down beside Carrie’s desk, leaning her back against the window sill and scooting Carrie’s makeup bin out of the way. “Did he, though? Did he get you some chocolate and a card?” 

“He sent back everything.” Carrie handed Jennifer a small stack, the first few letters that she hadn’t yet gone through. “He apparently read all of them in the time since Monday. Look at the red ink, that wasn’t there when we were in court.” 

“Let me read this,” Jennifer bit her nail and started reading, nodding as she read along. “ _ Carrie, if I were to have read this sooner, I would have- _ ”

“Stop it.” Carrie reached over from her chair to grab back the letters, Jennifer only holding them closer to her chest in return. 

“Can I read what you wrote? I knew you wrote to him, but I never got to read any of it.” 

“Sure,” Carrie sighed, resting her head on her desk. “It’s going to be a long night, though. I wrote fifty, I think.” 

_ January 13, 2007  _

_ I know that I already sent you a letter yesterday, but I’m finding it hard to tolerate myself without saying this to you. I feel like shit, which is saying a lot, because you already made me feel terrible.  _

_ I never told you that you were the only man that I had ever had sex with, because I thought that you would stop wanting to be with me. You would think that I was immature and that you had taken something away from me, and I thought that if you didn’t want to have sex, then you wouldn’t want to see me at all. Not that you were using me for that, because I know that you never would, but that you’d take that as a sign that maybe you shouldn’t be this close with one of your students. You know, I was supposed to take another Econ course this semester, and I just found out that if you hadn't left then you would have been the teacher.  _

_ What I’m trying to say is that I lied to you, and I have never felt this guilty before. I didn’t necessarily lie to you about losing my virginity, because that doesn’t matter, but that I had lied about what had come of it. I don’t even know how to write this, so excuse me if my handwriting gets too sloppy to read (which I hope that it doesn’t, because this part is very important) I’m pregnant with your daughter. I don’t know if we’re having a daughter, but I’m pretty sure we are. If you think that I’ve seen any sort of doctor then you’re lying to yourself, because the only professional I’ve seen was the CVS cashier when I bought the pregnancy test, and all that she said to me was sorry.  _

_ It’s funny to me that you don’t want kids, but you’ve got a dog. Dogs are worse, in my opinion. Not saying that I hate dogs, it’s just that you can never understand what they’re saying, even when they’re older.  _

“Carrie, what the fuck is this?” Jennifer began to chuckle, laughing even harder as she saw that Carrie’s face was bright red, hiding it on the table. “You’re talking about dogs? What does that have to do with any of this? No wonder he didn’t respond.”    
  


“What else was I supposed to say? I’d never been pregnant or had a kid before. What is there to talk about? We had sex, condoms are sometimes faulty, now there’s another human here. And everyone’s supposed to treat that like it’s a big deal.” Carrie reached for the letter again, seeing Jennifer shake her head and look back to it. “I was right though, you can’t tell me off for that. We have a daughter now. I told him so.” 

“You didn’t tell him shit if he didn’t read it!” Jennifer cut her joke, then continued back to the paper. 

_ I don’t want her to grow up the way that I did. I don’t want her to grow up that fast. I was pressured by my single mother to make something of myself, and now I’m stuck at an expensive school hours from everything I’ve ever known, on course for a career that I don’t even want. I love it here in New York, but I’d be lying if you didn’t make me feel at home when I first met you. I struggled without a second parent. I have no doubt in my mind that single parenting can work, but it didn’t work for my mother, and I’m afraid of inheriting that. I don’t care how you contribute to her life, whether you’re actually here or not. You can just send me money. I know that I always told you off for offering me cash, but I’m screwed. I promise that in a decade from now I’ll have it all paid back.  _

_ The reason I’m talking so much about her to you is because she’s the only thing you ever gave me. Why couldn’t you have left me a sweater, or a pen? I did steal both from you, so maybe this is your revenge. And if it is revenge, it’s not that great. Sure, my life would be easier, but I like to think that there’s a chance I can enjoy and be an okay mother. Love doesn’t equal capability.  _

_ You gave me the best semester of my life, so now you’re giving me three trimesters from Hell. Is hell capitalized as Hell? Is it because it’s a place, or because it’s important? I’ll capitalize it for emphasis. Hell.  _

_ Don’t think that I’m upset with you because of this. This being pregnant not this being our argument where I kind of made you cry. It takes two to tango, and I’m okay with that. I’ve done hard things before, I come out alive every time. I’m not much for being sappy, and I know that I’ve been trying to joke around for the majority of what I’m writing to you, but I want you to know that I’m going to love our child. I already do, I think that it’s impossible not to. When you have an extension of yourself, it’s difficult to not. I’ve always wanted children (and maybe now I think I only want one, because this has only been going on for six weeks now and I’ve gone crazy and back again). You don’t have to worry about her, or whoever our child is, I promise you that I’ll always be there. All I can ask is that you can be too. For Christmas, or birthdays. Maybe the Fourth of July? I know that it’s a bullshit holiday but I think you love America. You’re running for President, so you should at least pretend to like living here. Just be here for the special things, because any day with you was a special day for me. I’ll be there every other day of the year.  _

_ Love, Carrie  _

“I can see why you changed your major to English.” Jennifer said as she put the letter down. “When was the last time that you looked at that?” 

“January 2007.” Carrie drew circles onto her desk with her nails. “I should’ve never broken up with him, good God what the Hell was I thinking!” 

“You broke up with Harrison?” 

“After the debate I told him that I couldn’t handle it, and I gave back the ring.” She took the letter back from Jennifer and flipped it over, seeing so much red ink that words were squished into the margins. “I had every right to be mad at him, but not as mad as I got.” 

“You were right for leaving.” Jennifer picked up a dry makeup wipe from Carrie’s makeup and began to tear away at it. “I remember you telling me that you had promised not to talk about Sara, and that, to a lesser extent, you wanted your privacy. That’s all gone now. You don’t have a job either, and I’d be hellbent to delete the internet from your computer if you didn’t want to know what the entire world thinks of you. Monica Lewinsky.” 

“It’s just not fair. I love Harrison, but name one time that he ever had to fight for me, or he sacrificed part of his life. Look at me. If he and I had never met, I would have had an entirely different life. His would have been the same.” Carrie folded the letter in half and placed it into the box that it had arrived to her in. “He could have won the presidency with anyone helping him. I think that we were destined to meet, though, at another point in life. We did meet again, but everything had already happened. Sara would have come into my life no matter the circumstances, I believe that, but her father is Harrison, so I would have had to have met him. There are so many things that I am grateful for that came from him, but does that outweigh what happened?” 

“You’re the only person that can answer that.” Jennifer wanted to give Carrie her advice, but she was left with none. “Any other letters that you would like for me to read?” 

“There’s a lot of writing on the one about us looking for an apartment, and then of course there’s red ink front and back on the one about Sara being born. He already knows about Mark breaking that VHS player, so there’s no need for that part.” 

“Yes, there is. That was the funniest thing that ever happened to me.” Jennifer took hold of the two letters that Carrie passed down to her, reading the earlier one first. “I’m not reading about that apartment. That apartment can burn to the ground and have the ashes slip into the Hudson and I would celebrate.”

_ July 3, 2007 _

_ I named our daughter Sara. I hope that you don’t mind. She’s asleep right now, which is odd to say, because that was never something that I knew before. She was born yesterday, at 11 exactly. At night, of course, because like me she’s already decided to be difficult. She takes after me more because she begs for attention. I don’t know if she actually does, since I don’t know how babies work.  _

_ And before you flip out and decide to respond seven months after my first letter because I said that, just know that I’m joking and that she’s in good hands. I don’t think that I should go into detail about how yesterday went, as quite frankly I don’t remember most of it. One minute you’re listening to Fleetwood Mac in your bedroom, then you snap back to reality and you’re holding this child with a head full of hair. I don’t know where she got it from, but somehow her hair is already curly, so God rest my soul. I do remember watching television, though, and you were on CNN. One of the hosts was laughing at you, and I don’t know if I was more upset about them making fun of your policies or if I was upset that you were on a screen instead of next to me. They did predict that you’re going to win the primaries next spring, so maybe some good came out of that. Mark tried to fix the tv to play one of my favorite movies, having sent Jennifer across town to a store that still sold VHS tapes to find it, but he just couldn’t get the damn thing open. A letter can’t do this justice, because I was in a shitty mood all day, not because I don’t want to be a mother but because I was in severe fucking pain, and that was the only thing that had made me laugh. He did eventually break the cables that went to the tv, so I didn’t see you anymore that night.  _

_ I have written passive aggressive letters to you, and they may have seemed extremely aggressive from all of the swearing. (I’m having to cut back on that since I have to teach Sara how to talk, and I would really love it if her first word would be mom instead of fuck.) None of those can compare to how I feel about you right now, though. You had seven months to answer me. To say something. To even acknowledge what all I’ve said to you. But, of course you didn’t. I wanted you to be here. You should have been here. Instead I forced Jennifer to stand beside me, and I love her like a sister but she did nothing but steal ice from me, so she was pretty useless.  _

“We’re going to be talking about that when you’re not sad anymore.” Jennifer coughed, widening her eyes to Carrie. “I’m going to read the rest of this. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

_ You would have been able to meet your daughter at the same time I did, and at this point all I can predict is that you’ll come around when she’s in elementary school. I hope not. At that point, just don’t show up at all. She looks just like you. Babies don’t look like anyone, but somehow she looks like you. With a short chin, the same shape eyes, that strong nose. I said that I was in love with you, but that must have been a lie, because when I met her my idea of love was changed. It’s like there’s this part of you, and I guess that she is partly me, but it’s something pure, that’s never done something wrong, something perfect. She’s beautiful. She can’t do much, but she knows how to smile, and I know that she would do it more if you were smiling back at her. I just wish that you were there for her to hold your finger, because a fingertip is as large as her entire hand, and I didn’t know why that was what every parent used as an example of falling in love with being a mother or a father until that happened to me. I know that you don’t want children, but maybe that could change your mind. I’ve been worried about how I’ll handle all of this, but after we made contact, and I got to see and hold her, it felt like everything was going to be alright. I can’t believe that you will never get to experience that. I might be mad at you, but you deserved to be here. I would never wish missing the birth of someone’s child on my worst enemy. I don’t see how you do this. I don’t see how you read these and don’t respond. Are you ever going to apologize?  _

_ There’s a reason that I was never close enough to you to say this in person.  _

“You didn’t write a closing for that one.” Jennifer cleared her throat as she stopped reading, working through the contents of the letter quickly, knowing that if she dwelled on it too long that she would become emotional for Carrie, occasionally looking up to her to observe a glazed look on her eyes, a look of trying to forget about all of it. 

“I had already said enough. If I’d said ‘Love, Carrie’ then I think I would have broken down right then and there. I’d already cried enough in twenty-four hours, I’m surprised I wasn’t dehydrated.”

“Are you just going to ignore what I just read to you? How were you able to put that into words? I wouldn’t have been able to form a complete thought. You’re the strongest person that I’ve ever met, holy shit.” 

“I’m not strong at all. I’m weak for giving up so easily once I had everything that I had wanted.” Carrie sat up, reclining back into her chair. “Sometimes I remember that I chose all of this. That this is my life, and that I am actually living. I feel like I should be someone else watching all of this unfold. I like to pretend that I'm not the one at fault. Maybe I'm the one who fucked up after all. I yelled at him and told him that he fucked up every time I said he didn’t, but it turns out that I’m the one who ruined the two of us.” 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Jennifer stood up and stood behind Carrie’s chair, resting her chin on top of Carrie’s head. “I wish that your life was easier.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault that I can’t hold onto a relationship. We’ve already been through this once, I can survive a break up with him again.”    
  
“It’s so different this time. You were actually together, and you had him there for Sara. You had more power over him than he had over you. He told you that he loved you.” 

“He also told me that he was going to say I love you before he left for his campaign.” Carrie rolled her eyes, shifting away from Jennifer. 

“That first go-around was a lot of things, but it wasn’t love. Both of you know that. But what you have right now is.” Jennifer started to walk out of Carrie’s room, looking at the unread letters still sitting on Carrie’s desk, the stack rising taller than she was. “You’re going to want to stop reading these, but I want you to read them all. And read what Harrison wrote on them too. This could be all that you have left. Take your time.” 

Jennifer closed the door as she walked away, making sure that it didn’t slam. Carrie waited until she left to pick up the letters to read for herself, rereading the last one that Jennifer had read aloud. She hadn’t remembered writing it, and barely remembered telling Harrison about that night a few months back, but she could feel the anger within herself as she ran her fingertips over the thick paper, knowing that her handwriting was too sloppy to have been written in a wonderful state of mind. 

Sitting at the bottom of the second stack was her last letter, over ten pages long, typed and stapled together. She didn’t want to read it, but knew that she needed to. Carrie sat cross-legged in her desk chair, cozying up and making herself comfortable. 

Her first two years of college had been written down in that stack, and if Carrie was honest with herself, then she could say that she did want to at least skimm them, knowing that she had written down moments that were important to her then but had become long forgotten about. 

Losing track of the time, too enthralled in her own writing and feeling too guilty as she read Harrison’s to take a break, Carrie reached the last letter. She had already finished reading the last one that she had sent herself, then realized that the last letter wasn’t meant to be the last at all. It was to stand alone. 

_ October 23, 2012 _

_ Carrie,  _

_ This isn’t going to be long. You’ve already read enough of my writing for now. I want you to know that I started reading these as soon as I was handed them, and I wrote my annotations while you were either asleep or distracted. And now I’m writing this as you are on the plane.  _

_ I’ve run out of ways to say I’m sorry. I’m sure that you’ve read all of them, and rolled your eyes as most of them. I should have read these as they arrived, and I should have replied every single time. I should have reached back out and we could have worked out something. I betrayed your trust, and I shattered everything that you had worked for since the day that we met. You don’t owe me anything, not even an apology.  _

_ But I want you to do one last thing for me. I’ll be on all the major networks at nine A.M. on the 25th. I think that these letters will reach you on the 24th. Watch me. You don’t have to watch the entire thing, but listen to the first sentence or three.  _

_ I would tell you that I love you, but I don’t think that you want to read that right now.  _

⇣

Carrie wasn’t aware if she had gone to sleep or not, her body poured over her desk for hours that night, too sore to have slept at all. She wore her pajamas from the day before, having gone nowhere but downstairs. Tying the cords on her shorts into a bow and staring at her alarm clock, waking up ten minutes before it would sound, she unplugged the alarm from the wall. 

The house was quieter than it had been before, everyone sleeping rather than them all downstairs in the living room. There was still a downpour outside, the raindrops knocking against the window as the wind blew them sideways. Carrie sat up in bed, stress on her thighs from sitting in her chair too long, remembering that she had to have spent six hours reading all of the letters, and longer to read what Harrison had written on them. She bunched up her sheets into her fists, grounding herself before climbing out of bed. The couch downstairs was plush, and so old that it was easy to sink into, yielding a comfortable sit, but Carrie didn’t want to walk down to it, aching from her tiredness and afraid to face Harrison again, even if it were through a television. 

She had lost her socks somewhere through the night, taking them off as she sat on her feet and not bothering to remember where she had thrown them. Her feet padded down the stairs slowly, gripping to the carpet as she held onto the railing. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, something more intense than anxiety, like a wave rolling through her, slow and harsh. Her blood ran cold, her face stinging from her gut feeling. 

As she reached the living room, Carrie protested against her cold chills, leaving the blanket on the back of the couch. She reached for the remote, leaving it on the channel it was at already. The volume blared, shaking her out of her daze, and she quickly turned it down. After reading Harrison’s own letter, she had gone back to bed, a headache forming and a lost desire to sleep. Her pillow hadn’t even been warm, leaving her no sleep to survive the day on. 

An infomercial was on, advertising some sort of paper towel dispenser, with an overly enthusiastic man boasting about how well it worked, and that you could get two for the price of one if you paid separate shipping. That alone was enough to send Carrie to sleep, but she remained upright, skimming through the guide. 

She relaxed into the couch the best that she could, still on edge. She hoped that Harrison didn’t talk about her, that he didn’t say something embarrassing or expose something else. There was nothing else for him to mention, though, and nothing to update anyone one. No laws had been passed, and no major events had happened that week, just her worst nightmare turning into something daily. 

Carrie returned back to the channel she was on, watching as the news channel’s logo had appeared, taking up the whole screen and then shaping down to nothing. Harrison was there, as he always was, at or in front of his desk, dressed in his suit-and-tie no matter what time of day that it was. Her eyelids gestured closed, but Carrie forced herself to watch the broadcast, not moving her neck even though she desperately wanted to look to the ground. 

“Today, I am ending my run for candidacy. It would be unfair to all if I continued doing that I wasn’t made out for, to continue doing something that I didn’t completely love. I cannot be your candidate. I would be lying if I said that this isn’t difficult for me to say. I have found purpose in this position, but I had not found purpose in my life until just recently. I cannot serve as your president if I am unhappy. I cannot make sound decisions like that. I cannot lead or encourage you to lead one another if I cannot take the reins myself. I cannot be your candidate anymore.” 

Carrie felt as dread hit her core, not hearing herself gasp or feeling her jaw fall open. The feeling of dread rapidly filled with warmth, an odd feeling that she couldn’t name. Something more than speechless. 

She could sense that her eyes were shining, her face wanting to move but stuck in place. Her heart hadn’t yet caught up to her emotions, skipping a beat to try to calm her. She felt calm, strangely, not fully registering the sacrifice that she had seen. 

“I have worked my entire presidency to fight for what I believed to be right. To fight for marriage and gender equality. Racial equity. The presence of justice. Even pushing a notion to the United Nations to end global warfare. But, there is one thing in my life, that I hold very close, that I hadn’t fought for. And if you’re watching this, then yes. Yes, I am fighting for you. For the rest of my life, I will fight for you, and in doing this today, I have fought for you. You’re my best friend, you’re the love of my life, and to say that I’ve not fought for you would be a lie. I know how you feel, and I feel the same.” 

Carrie found herself whispering back to him under her breath, short sentences of forgiveness. Because if he had given up everything for her, she could let go of her humility. She had to annex the life that she had known, and in a split second Harrison had chosen to move on from himself as well. 

She turned off the television, unable to physically handle watching the rest of his speech, knowing that she would zone out, falling into a shell of herself. She would think too much, about what she had done, instead of trying to cherish what had happened. One minute. The first minute of his speech. It was all she had wanted for what seemed as if it were her entire life. If Carrie had stretched her life out, from beginning to end, or what was her current phase of life, her life before turning nineteen would be mere inches, and her life afterwards would stretch across every sea. 

They were two forces, fighting the same war, for the same reason, but somehow separated, whether it be by love or pain. 

Carrie didn’t want to dwell, or to tell herself that she had ruined things, because she knew she hadn’t, deep down she was still yearning. 

She grasped the phone sitting on the table beside her, dialing Harrison’s number, hoping for an answer. The line rang twice, then thrice, and then once more, ending with a voicemail, Carrie cutting it short. Resting the phone back to its stand, Carrie stood up from the couch, pouncing herself to the stairs, running up them swiftly. 

She changed from her pajamas into a sweater and leggings, throwing a pair of thick jeans over them, then a parka from long ago, hugging her form tightly. Carrie found her socks on the floor and slipped them on, not caring that one of her toes had become caught on a string. She opened her bedroom window, feeling the rain with her hand, almost freezing and the wind the same. November was approaching, with Mother Nature ushering a cold front. 

Carrie stayed in her outfit, making sure that it could keep her warm. She took hold of her keys, planning to drive straight to Harrison’s waiting outside and walking the sidewalk, not knowing how long that it would take to get in unannounced, but wanting to wait anyway. 

She laced up a pair of boots, making sure that they were skin-tight, then ran down the stairs again, not bothering to leave a note saying that she would be gone. Carrie checked herself out in the mirror next to the door, brushing her hair to the front of her face and grabbing the scarf that Mark had given her from the coat rack, because maybe she would actually use it that day.

She prepared herself to run to the car, forgoing an umbrella as she didn’t own one, jogging her feet in place and anxious to get moving. It was worth a shot to try to see him, to try to apologize face to face. 

Carrie grasped the doorknob with both hands, unlocking it then yanking it open with all of her strength, drafting herself to make a fast maneuver to her car. On the front porch, drenched in rain, the water soaking the plain clothing that he wore, Harrison stood in front of her. 

She grabbed her chest, taken back by his appearance. He wore a flannel shirt and worn jeans, the first time that she had seen him outside of a suit other than when they were romancing. The flannel was so soaked that even through the wool material she could see the outline of his chest, and his jeans were stuck to his body, dragging him down from the weight of the wet fabric. 

As Carrie made eye contact with Harrison, she saw him break it off, looking to the ground. She had never seen him back away from her before, to have fear in his eyes before he spoke, but as Harrison looked back up to Carrie, she saw something else that she had never witnessed. 

He had actually cried. He hadn’t cried a tear, or had his eyes glaze over, but he had cried real tears, large, sloppy, warm, salty, disgusting tears, spewing out as soon as he had looked away, just as he had seen Carrie again. 

“I knew that I couldn’t promise you my love if I couldn’t give you what you needed. I couldn’t live with myself if I had continued to break promises, if I had continued basing every move off of my public self, and if I had to allude to our life together every day for the rest of my career.” Harrison outstretched his palms to Carrie, hesitantly moving them, afraid she wouldn’t take them. 

Carrie stood frozen in place, not even her layers of clothing able to keep her warm. Everything began to hit her at once, the weight of Harrison’s commitment, leaving behind life as he had known it. Dropping out of the presidential race and stepping down from being the President of the United States. There was nothing that she could say or think that could satisfy her urge to convey her emotions, to show Harrison exactly how she felt, the gratitude beginning to course through her veins, the millions of apologies that she needed to say. 

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, and to hear that statement echoed back, but after spending hours upon hours reading what Harrison had written back to her, she already knew what he would say. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss until midnight, until the rain had frozen and their bodies would be impossible to unthaw, stuck together for the rest of their lives. She wanted to invite him inside, to dry him off, to let him rest, because she had only received a taste of how much stress that she had caused him, knowing that there was so much more pain that she had dealt him than she was able to recognize.

Carrie wanted to recite every thought that she had ever had about Harrison, to retell how much she loved him and how she fell in love, to say how much that she regretted leaving just days ago, even though it had felt like years. Their brief time apart had felt longer than the five years that they had spent away, and the hardships that she had faced then were nothing in comparison to the heartbreak she had endured in the past three days. She felt as if she had aged ten years, waiting to bring herself to calling him, waiting even to hear herself speak Harrison’s name, not even remembering why she had been mad at him in the first place, thinking that her reasons had been petty. 

There was a temptation to back away, to tell Harrison that she would see him again later, that she needed to think things through, to create a course of action.

She would be walking out of the greatest opportunity of her life if she didn’t say something in return, walking out of a portal into a world of what she knew, walking away from the one person who had almost always made her feel safe, and was now providing her with complete security. She wanted to turn around and look back at Harrison, to not stare at him as she spoke, but she had reacted too soon, already opening her mouth to say something as she saw his tears. Carrie was face to face with the love of her life, and finally recognized that without that love, she couldn’t call living as life at all. She was looking back at her professor, at her mentor, at her daughter’s father, at her president, at her very best friend. 

Before she had met Harrison, she found it difficult to feel out of place, always fitting in, always doing the right thing. But with him, she wasn’t afraid to mess up, to do what was seen as wrong, to make mistakes and learn from them. After years of finding herself, and feeling out of place for the entirety of it, when she saw Harrison at her doorstep, she felt her heart mend, she felt herself falling back into warmth, someone to hold her and someone for her to hold back. She didn’t have to feel out of place to be herself any longer, because the only place she could be herself was with him. Harrison, with his open palms, reaching out to her for an answer, was welcoming her back into safety. After taking a few steps forward, she pressed her hands into Harrison’s palms, smiling wider than she ever had before. “Do you still have the ring?” 

___________________________________

**_GET OVER IT_ **

**America’s Diana Speaks Her Mind**

**Rolling Stone, January 21, 2013, written December 2012**

“Recently, I’ve been loving the song ‘Maniac,’ by Michael Sembello. I think that song sums me up pretty well, or at least that’s what your readers think.” Fisher’s head rests on her fist as she raises a cup of tea to her lips with her free hand. 

I’ve asked her to show me her MP3 player. It isn’t often that we profile individuals who aren’t in the music business. I’m trying to get a feel for her personality, to see if she’s even worth writing an article about. 

I’m thumbing through her music library, about to ask her why she’s recently added a Tears for Fears album, but she’s cut me off. 

“I’m still embarrassed when I tell people that I came from nothing and that my only notoriety is the result of an affair.” With her dark eyeshadow haphazardly brushed on, Fisher takes a careful finger to rub her eyelid. “I don’t know, really, I guess that I just wasn’t prepared for an interview. I mean, this is  _ Rolling Stone _ . My last interview was with Barbara Walters explaining to her why I refused to tell my daughter her dad was the president. It’s always this crazy shit that makes me look horrible, I’m not used to being me in interviews. I’m used to playing someone else for them.” 

Fisher hasn’t told me who ‘them’ refers to, but it’s safe to assume who they are. There’s her growing status as an icon to the working woman, being able to push past hardships and land a job as President Ford’s divorce lawyer, fresh out of law school, months before the presidential election, and as one of her first cases. She obtained her bachelor’s degree in three years and graduated Cum Laude at Columbia Law. Sara, her daughter, was born the summer before her second year of her undergraduate education. This, of course, was all public knowledge and picked up by tabloids from the first sight of her alongside President Ford. No one knew that she was having an affair with him in college, nor that her daughter was also his. 

There’s her family that she has to protect from the media, both her blood family and her found family. Her father, who left Fisher’s life when she was ten, was hunted down by  _ People  _ magazine for an inside scoop. Her mother disowned her after finding out she was pregnant in college and hasn’t been in the same room with her since. Fisher’s told me none of this, it’s all information that other people have told the tabloids. She has to protect Sara from the world, still too young to deal with the drama but old enough to comprehend it. President Ford, or ‘Harrison’ as she has always referred to him, even refusing to call him President Ford for formal meetings and court hearings, doesn’t need any sheltering, but Fisher doesn’t enjoy answering questions about his life in her interviews. Her found family consists of Mark Hamill and Jennifer Grey, her roommates from her sophomore year of college. They’ve seen her through thick and thin. Mark Hamill, an aspiring actor, is having a hard time finding roles, too many directors wanting him to be on set to dish out fresh news on the scandal instead of his talent. Jennifer Grey is a teacher for a local theater in D.C., choosing to keep her life the most private of anyone. Not only is Fisher constantly surrounded by cameras, they are too. In Fisher’s US Weekly interview, she famously dubbed them, ‘guilty by misassociation.’

Then there’s also the half of the country that hates her. It seems that every moment I check my Facebook feed I run across another post calling for President Ford’s impeachment because of her, even though he had already dropped out of the race, or another simpler post from someone’s grandmother calling Fisher a bitch. 

Secret Service are not as big of a staple in Fisher’s life as they are in her partner’s, but they’re constantly watching. Rarely are men in black suits seen in the paparazzi photographs of Fisher, but they’re still around, just in ordinary clothing. 

“I have Secret Service around me because of all of my interviews. A month after Harrison dropped out, I decided to tell my side of the story, because there was really nothing else to hide. I don’t like talking about my life or our daughter’s, but I would rather be the one talking than someone else.”

“Moving into a life of celebrity was horrible. I’m a very independent person, and now I feel like an animal in a cage, zoo attendees gathered all around.” Fisher and I are both looking at the barista of the coffee house. The woman is watching us intently, whispering to her co-worker, presumably about us. “I’m incredibly thankful for the agents assigned to me, they’re really cool, but I hate having to be watched over. Once all of this dies down, after the inauguration, I’m going to stop giving the people what they want. We’re going to move into a place of our own, since right now I’m still unpacking boxes from moving into the house I live in currently, and we plan to just fall off the face of the Earth. I’m going to write my first novel, fiction, not autobiographical, so don’t get too excited! Harrison’s planning to do some humanitarian work, and of course our daughter will go to school like any other child would, and I think we’re getting a dog.” 

Fisher’s let me follow her around for the day, and has also graciously told me that ‘nothing is off the record.’

“I want this article to be the article that people remember me by. I want them to get a look into who I really am, what I do, not knowing me because of my hectic life.” Fisher looks away from the barista and out the window. Our car is waiting outside. We can stay here as long as we would like, being in a relationship with the president has its perks, but Fisher’s basic human decency leads us to standing up and busting the table. Fisher shakes her head at one of her Secret Service agents who tries to take her trash for her. 

Fisher pulls a ring box from her purse and removes the ring from her ring finger. “I don’t want to provoke the watchers.” She slips the ring into the box and into her bag. I ask her why she’s wearing the ring, knowing that the most recent rumor is that President Ford proposed to her, although there is no solid proof.“They’re right about their assumptions. I don’t want to, nor deserve, for them to have my time of day yet. Yes, we’re engaged, now get over it. Get over it all, get over everything. Put that in the article, it’ll be a month or so until this releases, right?” 

“I never wanted to have an affair in college. All that I wanted to do was to get my degree, pass through law school, and eventually make enough money to support my mother and my brother.” Fisher walks through a door held open for her and immediately shields her eyes from the paparazzi, not wanting them to get their perfect shot. 

We slip into the car waiting for us and start driving back to the White House. I’ve obtained special permission to go inside. I pull out my notepad again, crossing off questions that I now know would be an insult to her intelligence. Fisher’s smart, she knows how the world of tabloids work.

She’s slipping back on her engagement ring, and I notice that it’s a ruby rather than a diamond. “We were thinking of getting a diamond in it for the wedding, but the meaning behind the ruby is just too special.” 

Fisher is known as being heavily liberal, even more so than her fiancé. “I know there’s a lot of conservative women who actually like me, for sacrificing so much of my college for my daughter, for not having things handed to me. I get it, I’ve done my fair share of work. What are you going to say though, in ten years if suddenly my daughter says she’s gay? If she's dating someone of a different race? If she speaks out against climate change? You only support me because of what you see on the outside, not because of any of my opinions.”

“If I’d have never met Harrison or had my daughter, I think I would’ve gone into human rights law. The only reason I even concentrated on family law was because of Harrison talking to me about his plans for a divorce back in college, and because I knew of all the shit I’d have to prove if I wanted Harrison to have custody over our daughter later on. I’m so used to saying ‘my daughter’ instead of Sara. I tried to hide her from the spotlight and not feed into the people who tried finding her birth certificate and pictures, but once Harrison signed off of the birth certificate a few weeks ago the document became public.” Carrie rests her elbow on the window. “I miss being able to ride with the windows down.”

“If I have the windows down, there’s a chance that I’m going to be shot. I’m a political target now, especially since the assassination attempt aimed at Harrison failed.” 

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, for, you know, my involvement in that day to change the course of the election. I knew that one way or another that people would eventually uncover that I knew him before his second campaign, but I didn’t expect for Jillian to expose all of that. Her article didn’t have a real impact, but after the debate people started to cite it. I still don’t understand why she painted me in such a bad light, if anyone is crazy then she is. And for those who know me personally, that is really saying something.”

“I turned 20 a few days after he and I first slept together, I was a freshman in college having all of this happen. Looking back knowing what I know now, I don’t even think that I should have accepted the offer to help him set up the campaign in the first place. I wouldn’t have ever had the whirlwind relationship that I have with him now, my daughter would have never been born, but with this now I’m putting them both in danger.”

“But, he left the presidency to protect both of us, loving us more than his country, and I think that speaks volumes in and of itself. Soon enough, none of us will be in danger anymore. If he can no longer be the world’s candidate, then he can be mine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in July of 2017, when I was fourteen years old. I was about to enter my first year of high school, and my father had decided the two of us should watch the movie Air Force One. I just turned seventeen last month, and I'm going to be a senior in high school this August. 
> 
> Part one was written over the course of two years, from 2017 to 2019, fuled by a bad bout of depression. I've had various problems with my mental health since my early childhood, and this one was the worst that it had ever been. I wrote part one to cope with that, and it took so long because of my lack of motivation. Part two was written in its entirety in 2020, all 90,034 words. Part two is what Candidate was always about. It is what I ranted to my friends about (see: my dedication), and it is what i had been waiting to write the entire time. I saw Air Force One, and I pictured it without the fighting and death, and instead just Harrison being the president, and his first lady being Carrie. Obviously, this had evolved into so much more. 
> 
> It feels bittersweet to send this out into the world, as it began as just a concept that my friends and I would joke about, but I am extremely proud of the work that went into this, and I always will be. I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> If you want to get in contact with me (I love making new friends!), my Twitter handle is sapphicsupreme. Somehow, I managed to write a 126k word heterosexual fanfiction while being a lesbian myself. Surprisingly enough, that was not my largest challenge in writing this.
> 
> I made a playlist for this part as well! Excuse the long link, I don't think that I can embed it. https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/%F0%9D%92%84%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%8F%F0%9D%92%85%F0%9D%92%8A%F0%9D%92%85%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%95%F0%9D%92%86-%F0%9D%92%91%F0%9D%92%82%F0%9D%92%93%F0%9D%92%95-%F0%9D%92%95%F0%9D%92%98%F0%9D%92%90/pl.u-jV89By9uXWEN7q


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